


Welcome Home

by CarlyWrites



Series: Natasha and Wanda [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awesome Wanda Maximoff, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton's Farm, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Hydra (Marvel), Kid Wanda Maximoff, Mind Manipulation, Mind Palace, Mind Rape, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Wanda Maximoff, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Prequel, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Series, Telepathic Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 57,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarlyWrites/pseuds/CarlyWrites
Summary: Wanda arrives at the new Avenger's facility in New York and struggles to find her place among the team while dealing with the consequences of her actions following Ultron. However, her newfound family is quickly shaken to its core when one of their own is seriously injured.Part 1 of the Natasha and Wanda SeriesNot CACW Compliant
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: Natasha and Wanda [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615924
Comments: 178
Kudos: 283





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is part 1 of the Natasha and Wanda Series, told in the point of view of Wanda. It takes place over the course of about a year, from the moment she arrives at the new Avenger's compound to when Nat wakes up at the start of Silenced. Once these two are done, I will start the third and final part of the series, which should definitely be read after this one and Silenced.  
> As always, any comments or feedback is welcome, please enjoy!  
> *also trigger warning for PTSD

I stand at the edge of the room, hovering in the doorway.  
“It’s yours,” Clint crosses his arms. “You can do what you want with it.” I put down my bag. All that is in it is a photo of Pietro and I, and some toiletries Natasha handed me. Calling it a bag in this such a way is insulting to other bags. It is what you would carry groceries in. “Nat will take you shopping tomorrow for some stuff. We’re new here too, it’s our first time at this facility.” He looks around, “Dinner is in an hour, that should give you some time to settle in.”  
“Thank you,” I sit down on the bed once he leaves. I have never felt anything so luxurious in my life. I run my hands over the silky coverlet. My eye catches on an open door. I have my own bathroom. It is enough to almost bring me to tears. I carefully take out the toiletries and put them in the shower. Back in my room, I take my photo of Pietro and pin it to the bulletin board on the wall.  
“So what do you think?” Tony stands in the doorway.  
“It is very generous, Mr. Stark, thank you.” He stands in the doorway, unsure what to do.  
“Alright, I’ll see you at dinner.”  
Dinner, I come to find out, is pizza. They are all crowded together around the dining table, speaking loudly over each other. They fall silent when they see me.  
“Come sit with us, grab a slice.” Clint pats the seat next to him, putting me between him and Captain America.  
“Pineapple is a pizza topping Romanoff,” Tony declares, brandishing his slice.  
“It’s like putting strawberries on your pizza, Stark.”  
“Is that a challenge?”  
“You guys are ridiculous,” Captain America laughs. I look down at my slice of cheese. I hadn’t had pizza since before the bombing. “Do you like pizza?” He whispers to me.  
“Yes, have not had it in long time.” I pick it up and take a bite, the flavor floods my taste buds.  
“I think she likes it,” Clint laughs. I blush in embarrassment. “It’s okay, I’m pretty sure the first time Thor has chocolate he cried.”  
“It was a very moving experience, Hawkeye.” Thor glares at the archer, but his eyes are light. “Unfortunately, friends, I must depart after this meal. Asgard needs me.” He picks up his hammer off kitchen counter. “Until next time,”  
“He always makes such dramatic exits,” Natasha rolls her eyes.  
“And no concern for lawn care,” Tony looks distastefully at his now burnt grass. The dinner ends uneventfully, everyone going to their respective rooms.  
“We’ll leave at noon tomorrow,” Natasha barely looks at me, she walks brusquely down the hall, based on her outfit, towards the new training facilities.  
“Can I get you anything before I head off to my room as well?” Clint asks, throwing away the last of the paper plates.  
“I am good, thank you.” I push my hair behind ears. I turn on the small TV that is in my room, flipping through the channels. There are over a thousand, I had never heard of such a thing. How could every TV show be seen? I end on a show called _The Office_. Soon, it is nearly two o’clock in the morning. I close my eyes to sleep. For the first time since Pietro died, I do. In the morning, I wake plagued by guilt. I slept without nightmares, I slept peacefully. It is an insult to my twin. I shove the feelings deep down and step into the kitchen.  
“Hello,” Natasha nearly jumps out of her skin, fumbling with her mug.  
“Sorry, I’m a little jumpy this morning.” She picks up the carafe and pours herself a mug, then me. I take it quietly and disappear onto the couch.   
“Hey Nat,” Clint comes into the kitchen, “how are you doing?” I’m surprised by Clint’s tone, it’s soft, gentle.  
“I’m fine,” she snaps.  
“Yesterday you said,” they are silent for a moment. “Hi Wanda,” he pokes his head over the couch. “Excited to go shopping?” I force out a smile.  
“Cannot wait,”  
“You girls will have fun, want to work on some hand to hand with me?” He drops into a fighting stance.  
“Yes, I will change.” The clothes in my closet are slightly too big, I think they belong to Natasha. Clint is waiting outside my room, leaning against the wall.  
“Alright, let’s go.” He leads me down the hall towards the elevator. “I spent some time exploring last night, found the new training facilities, they’re awesome.” We step inside a large gym. “Alright, I’m going to teach you some basic moves, okay? I’m not as good as Nat when it comes to close quarters combat, but I’m pretty good.” After two hours, we stop. I am sweating, but Clint is barely winded. “That was really good for a first timer, you’re going to be great. Go take a shower, Nat hates when people are late.”  
  
I’m am waiting in the foyer when at exactly noon I hear a honk outside. A black SUV is waiting. I spot the redhead in the driver’s seat, her face covered by sunglasses. This is the first time I’ve seen her out of uniform. She sports jeans and a leather jacket.  
“You’re on time, that’s good.” She waits for me to put on my seatbelt before shifting the gear on the car. She keeps her eyes trained on the road. The music on the radio stops the car from being silent. We pull up to a mall after about a half hour of driving. “This is no New York City, but there’s a Nordstrom’s.” I don’t know what that means. “Come on,” she shuts off the car and we walk inside. I gape are the sheer amount of clothing in sight. And shoes. And everything.  
“So much,”  
“Yes, there is a decent selection.” She leads me over to the racks of clothes.  
“I have no money,” I look down at the tags, the prices of these items are more than the rent of an apartment in Sokovia.  
“It’s on Stark, spend as much as you want. Then a little more,” Natasha smiles but it’s forced. “Maybe get you your own leather jacket,” she nods at the one I’m wearing. I realize it must be hers, she’s the only other female who lived in the tower.  
“Sorry, I will return,”  
“I am joking, it suits you better.” She hands me a pair of jeans. “You need other clothes though.” After acquiring a small fortunes worth of clothing and shoes, we move onto bags. “You need a duffel bag for missions,”  
“Duffel?” This word is new.  
“A bag than can hold a weekends worth of necessities.” She explains, holding up an example. I nod and move through the aisles. However, something else catches my eye.  
“You can get it,” Natasha appears behind me suddenly, “we all have to be frivolous sometimes.” Another word I don’t know. I will have to google it. She plucks it from my hands, and I notice she grabbed me a duffel bag too, red. In the home section, I select from knickknacks at Nat’s insistence. She brings everything to the counter. I nearly die on the spot when I see the price.  
“No,”  
“Yes,” she hands them a black credit card. “I’m hungry, let’s get lunch.” We drop the bags off at the car and head back into the mall. In the food court, people mill around us and I watch in wonder.  
“They so relaxed,”  
“Yes, blissfully unaware of dangers that lurk around every corner,” she stabs a French fry in her ketchup. I look down at my hamburger. “Pizza and hamburgers, can’t get more American than that for your first two meals,”  
“Italian and German?”  
“That’s what America is, a mix of a whole lot of things,”  
“Like Avengers?” Her eyes soften and a real smile blooms on her face for the first time. "Why do you help me?” I ask  
“They don’t know what it’s like, to go from villain to hero. To have everything you’ve ever believed become wrong overnight.”  
“You do?” I look suspiciously at her. How could she know?  
“Until 2006, I was an assassin for the KGB. I wasn’t human, I killed with no regret.” My burger gets stuck in my throat. “Clint was sent to kill me, instead he saved me.” I take a sip of my water. I have so many questions. How many people did she kill? Does she remember all their names? How did you become an assassin? However, by the haunted look in her eyes, I can tell sharing time is over. We arrive back to the car.  
“Thank you,”  
“You’re welcome. We start training Monday. I’ll be teaching you language and combat. Cap’s got history covered. Clint has math. Tony has science.”  
“School? Not training?”  
“Did you miss the part where I said combat? You are barely sixteen, you still have to get an education,” she looks at me incredulously.  
“I haven’t been to school since my parents died,”  
“You are smart.” She starts the car. When we arrive back at the facility, she goes straight inside, leaving me to struggle with the bags. Clint appears moments later, concern painted on his face.  
“Was she okay? While you were out?” he asks, taking the bags from me.  
“Yes, fine.” I tilt my head, “Why?”  
“Will you put on a fashion show for me?”  
“A fashion show?” I laugh.  
“Whenever my wife and daughter come home from a shopping trip, they model everything for me.” I grin.  
Clint waits on my bed as I change in my walk-in closet. I step out in my new jeans and t-shirt.  
“What do you think?”  
“I don’t know,” he pauses, “Give me a twirl,”  
“A twirl?” he makes a spinning motion with his finger. I spin around.  
“It is awesome, let’s see another one,” Eventually, more clothes are now on the floor than in the bags. “I have to say, you rocked the runway.” I laugh, striking a pose. I hear something crash in the next room over. Clint immediately sobers, jumping up from the bed. “I’ll check in later, okay? Stay here.” I nod and he bolts out of the room. I don’t remember which Avenger I share a wall with. I begin to put away my new clothes, picking them up from their piles on the ground. I place a new cork globe on my desk. It comes with pins to mark everywhere I go. There are a few small posters and note cards that I add to the photo of Pietro. I toss my new throw pillows on the bed. When I am done, it looks more like a bedroom and less like a hotel room. I put back on the TV, _The Office_ is playing once again. At six, there is a knock at my door.  
“Hey kid, dinner almost ready,” Sam smiles at me. I follow him to the kitchen where Steve is putting the finishing touches on tacos. “So, did you have fun shopping today?”  
“Yes, I have never seen so much clothes.” He hands me a plate and we go to grab food from the counter. Clint and Natasha join a few minutes later, though she trails behind reluctantly.  
“Where’s Tony?” Clint asks, grabbing two plates. He fills them up and brings them over to the table.  
“Off to Malibu with Pepper,” Steve replies. Pepper, that’s Tony’s girlfriend. I am yet to meet her. “Rhodey left too, had business in DC. Oh, and Vision is with Tony.” He takes a bite of his taco.  
“Wanda put on quite the fashion show earlier,” Clint exclaims suddenly. I duck my head in embarrassment. Natasha smiles at me briefly before going to back to picking at her food. Steve is staring at her. They all know something I don’t.  
“I have to head back to D.C. next week. I can’t abandon my group.”  
“Of course,”  
“Group?” I ask.  
“I do a support group for veterans. Got a degree in psych after I left the military. I wanted to find a new way to help people. I didn’t know that would mean becoming an Avenger, but we’ve all got our path.” He laughs. Sam is very likable and happy, as stark contrast to the other members at the table. Except Clint, he seemed like a relatively happy person.  
That night, I lie in bed hoping to fall asleep early. I hear the door to the room next to mine open and close. I forgot to look to see who sleeps there. I snuggle into the covers in my new pajamas. The cool silk envelops me. I fall asleep.  
I wake up with my heart pounding. That was not my dream. I was in someone else’s head. I try to calm down, I am glowing red. Whose nightmare was that? My heart is pounding, I try to take a deep breath. There were dancers with broken knees, shards of glass in their feet. Slippers tied so tight that they cut off circulation. Their previous choreography could be seen on stage through streaks of blood. There will be no going back to sleep.  
I sit at the kitchen counter Monday afternoon as Nat prepares us lunch. Earlier this morning we had combat, then Clint and I practiced math. Now, she was tutoring me in English.  
“I know English.”  
“Yes, you do. And quite well for someone who is self-taught. However, it needs to be flawless. There can be no trace of an accent or dropped articles.”  
“Articles?”  
“The, an, a. Besides your accent, it is the only problem you seem to have.” She hands me a peanut butter sandwich, “Can you read English?”  
“Yes,”  
“Okay, what other languages do you speak?”  
“Sokovian, English, Russian, and German. I can read them all as well.”  
“Once we perfect your English, we will start on Spanish. Once you learn Spanish, the other Latin languages come easily enough. After Spanish we will begin Mandarin. It is difficult to learn but will come in handy.”  
“How many languages do you speak?” I ask, taking a bite of my sandwich.  
“Sixteen fluently, twenty-three if I just need the basics.”  
“That is wild.” I stare in awe. I cannot imagine.  
“Let’s set a goal for you,” she taps her finger to her lip, “Ten? I think we can get ten down pat before you’re eighteen.” I nod in agreement, eating my sandwich. I walk over to the couch and click on the TV. There is a commercial for the Nutcracker in New York City. I cringe, thinking of my nightmare last night.  
“Have you ever been to the Nutcracker?” I look over my shoulder and see Natasha’s eyes trained on the TV, she is so still she isn’t even breathing. Her grip on her plate is so tight, it looks like it may crack. “Natasha?” I get off the couch. “Clint!” I run out of the room and down towards the weapons room where he said he would be taking inventory. “Clint,”  
“Hey,” he looks up smiling, but the smile disappears quickly when he sees my face. When we get back to the living room, Nat is sitting on the ground, staring blankly at the back of the couch. The plate dropped from her hand at some point, shattered. “What happened?”  
“I turned on the TV and she,”  
“What was on the TV?” he demands.  
“It was advertisement, Nutcracker,” I breathe. He curses.  
“Nat, hey,” He sits down in front of her, snaps his fingers. There is no recognition in her eyes, nothing. It is like she isn’t even in there. My heart plummets.  
“Were we attacked? Through the TV?” I ask, grabbing the remote and turning it off.  
“Something like that,” he scoops Nat up in his arms and carries her. I follow. We go into the room next to mine, that one I now know belongs to Natasha.  
There are pictures everywhere. It is the first thing I notice. Photos of her and the team or individuals that I don’t recognize. It is impeccably clean. On her desk, pencils are lined up perfectly, everything at right angles. Only two pictures sit on her desk: one of the original Avengers looking battle torn eating fast food, and another of her and Barton outside a farm with three others.  
“Nat, can you hear me?” She is shivering on her bed. I hover off to the side.  
“Can I do anything to help?” I manage to squeak out.  
“You’ve done enough,” he snaps. Instantly, he regrets it. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Can you make a cup of tea? Chamomile?” I nod and head out of the room. How is this my fault? I didn’t know that the Nutcracker was going to be on TV or that it would even upset Nat. It was her nightmare last night; I know that now. _I’ve done enough already_. Oh my God. This is my fault. I run in with the cup of tea. Natasha sees me when I come in, but it is almost like she is looking through me. I hand the cup to Clint. He puts it in her hands. She blinks, looking down at the steaming mug. _This is my fault_. “Come on, drink some. You’ll feel better.”  
“I’d prefer vodka,” she mutters but raises the mug to her lips. “You added honey?” she looks over at Clint.  
“Sorry, no. I did,” I say meekly from the corner. My voice is barely a squeak. “I’m going to go,”  
“You told her?”  
“I didn’t mean to, it slipped,” he defends. I try to leave the room.  
“Come back in here,” I turn around and stand in the doorway.  
“You must hate me,” I cry.  
“I don’t hate you,” she puts down the mug, her hands shaking.  
“But this is my fault.”  
“I am getting better; it was worse the first few days.” It was worse than this? I wring my hands. “You were on a bad path, but you moved to the right one. Your mistakes aren’t nearly as bad as mine.” She stands up, “I’m going to go take a shower,” she slips into her bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind her.  
“What did I do?” I sit on the bed, head in hands.  
“I shouldn’t have said that, I am so sorry.” Clint puts a hand on my shoulder.  
“Why aren’t Thor and Steve in such bad shape? Or Tony?”   
“Everything that they saw was fake, imagined. What Nat saw were memories, ones that she has tried hard to forget.” Clint closes his eyes for a moment, “It used to happen sometimes when she first arrived, a trigger of some sort. It started up again after,” he pauses, “and she is pushing through it now. She’ll be okay,”  
“How will she be okay?”  
“Because I’m not human,” Natasha appears in a bathrobe, towel drying her hair. “Not really.”  
“Nat,” Clint groans, leaning back on the bed.  
“They did tests on me, like they did to you and Cap. The outcomes just weren’t as noticeable. Since I turned eighteen, I’ve been aging slower. I handle mental and physical torture better. I can last on less sleep, less oxygen, less everything.” She steps into her closet and comes out a moment later in sweatpants and a t-shirt. “I was the perfect spy, perfect assassin, until this one corrupted me.” She looks pointedly at Clint.  
“I’m so sorry for making you relive something that hurt you this much,” I chew on my lip.  
“You didn’t know,”  
“I’m going to go back to my room, watch TV.” I leave the room and quickly head into my suite. After grabbing the duffel from the top shelf of my closet, I begin to fill it with essentials. Once packed, I grab the photo of Pietro and I, and turn to leave. However, Natasha’s standing in the doorway.  
“How did you know?”  
“Because it’s exactly what I would do,” she takes my bag from my hand and carefully repins the photograph. She then begins to methodically unpack my clothes, carefully putting them away.  
“Please hate me,” I beg.  
“I can’t,” she puts the overnight bag back in its spot. “You are just a kid; you didn’t know any better.”  
“But I hurt you,”  
“At some point in our lives, we all need a person to look us in the eye and tell us we aren’t made from our mistakes. Who we are is determined by how we learn from them.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda begins to find her place among the Avengers and learns more about her mentors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Hope you enjoy! Any feedback is welcome, i live for comments  
> *Trigger warning for mention of underage noncon

“You’re leaving your left exposed,” Natasha calls out.  
“Don’t help her,” Clint yells back.  
“Clint, that is literally our job. We are teaching her,” she reminds him, laughing. “Protect your ribs,” I pull my arms in tighter.  
“I can move things with my mind. Why do I need to know this?”  
“What if your powers stopped working?” I falter and Clint gets in a hit, it had never occurred to me that they could stop working. I block another hit with my forearm and get his stomach while his arm exposes his midsection. “Good hit,” Over the past few days, I have learned that any bit of praise from Natasha was few and far between. I feel a rush of pride.  
The timer goes off, signaling the end of the sparring match. I sit on the ground, sweaty. Natasha throws me a water bottle and I catch it easily, taking a long sip.  
“Careful Clint, soon she’ll be better than you,” he rolls his eyes and leans against the wall. “How is the translation coming along?” She looks over at me. Currently, I am translating Heart of a Dog from Russian to English.  
“Good, almost done.”  
“Once you are, I want a three-page book report. Will you be done with the translation by tonight?” I nod.  
“That book sucks,” Clint looks at Natasha.  
“It does not, it’s an easy translation, short. It’s not like I gave her War and Peace.”  
“Please don’t,” I think of the twelve-hundred-page monstrosity sitting on Natasha’s bookshelf.  
“How are you even designing a curriculum?”  
“I don’t know Clint, how are you teaching math?”  
“With a textbook,” he smirks. I pull myself off the mat, my bare back sticking to the blue plastic.  
“Nat, can I borrow you?” I look up and see Steve on the observation platform.  
“I’ll check the translation after dinner,” she turns to me and heads up the stairs to follow Cap.  
“Do you know what that is about?”  
“No,” Clint shrugs, “They have had a lot of secret meetings since the incident with the Winter Soldier. Nat doesn’t like me asking about it, and I know better than to push.” I hear the warning in his voice, I shouldn’t push either.  
Up in my room, I write out the translation on the book. I’m tempted to put it into google translate and call it a night, but I’m fairly certain I would get caught. My wet hair drips onto the pages of the novella, still not dry from my shower.  
“Hey, you up for a field trip?” Natasha pokes her head into the room, she has thrown a winter coat over her workout gear. She doesn’t wait for an answer, “I’ll meet you out front in ten,” I braid my hair back and put on my new coat, I’m out in five. Natasha appears a moment later with her arms full of reusable grocery bags. We climb into the black SUV and begin our drive. We arrive at Stop and Shop. She sighs heavily and gets out of the car, grabbing a cart on our way in. I stare in awe at the store. There is food everywhere. I have never seen so many different kinds of apples. There are fresh vegetables going from the floor nearly to the ceiling.  
“How is there so much food?”  
“What do you mean? We always have food at the compound,”  
“I thought it was because Tony is rich,” I walk over and look at the strawberries, “Aren’t these out of season?” Natasha grabs a carton and puts them in the carriage. “Everyone has access to this much food here?”  
“Almost everyone, yeah.” She pushes the cart forward, letting me take it all in. She begins to load up on more items, like lettuce and spinach. “What was it like? Grocery stores in Sokovia?”  
“The war started when I was so young, I don’t know what it was like before. But it was mostly canned food and rice. Meat on holidays. Once my parents died, whatever we could find.” I think of the dandelions we used to eat when things got really bad. Natasha says nothing, there is nothing to say. Any platitude would sound hollow. “I like to cook, I am good cook,” She looks over at me. “I’m a good cook,” I correct myself, putting on an American accent. She said keep focusing on it until it becomes first nature, second nature isn’t enough. Clint laughed and said first nature wasn’t a thing.  
“What do you like to cook?”  
“I can make a meal out of anything,” we wander down the aisles. It’s midafternoon on a Tuesday, save few a few elderly people and moms with toddlers, the grocery store is empty. She grabs chips and salsa, bread. Butter, milk. Her movements are so blasé that it shocks me, if Pietro could see this much food, he would die. I wince at my own poor choice in words.  
“Is there anything that you want?”  
“I don’t know,” I look around the frozen food section and my eyes land on the pierogis. Natasha grabs four bags. “Thank you,” I look at Pietro’s favorite food. My mother used to say that he ate so many he would turn into a pierogi. “Is there anything else we need?”  
“I don’t think so,” we head towards the check out. Natasha avoids the cashiers and heads towards self-checkout. She scans, I bag.  
“Why do you do grocery shopping?” I ask.  
“The,” she corrects again.  
“Tony could hire someone to do it, right?”  
“Yes, but I like doing it. It’s nice to feel normal for a little while.” I put the now bagged groceries in the cart and she pays. One of the cashiers is trying to take a sneaky picture with his cell. “Or at least I can pretend I am,” her eyes flit to the phone briefly. We sit in the car, and I still have so many questions about my new mentor. As if sensing it, she turns to me.  
“So, when you say you age slower,”  
“Good job on the accent,” she compliments. I can tell she is trying to diverge my train of thought with the compliment.  
“How much slower?”  
“Clint and I figured about three or four months for every year, just based on appearance.”  
“So how old are you?” She looks over at me, annoyed.  
“I was born in 1984,” I do the math in my head, she’s 31. She would have turned 18 in in 2002. “Which is why I don’t look old enough to rent a car.” I expect her to sound bitter, but instead she is entirely unemotional. It is in this moment that I discover, any emotion I see from her is what she allows me to see. She starts the car and begin our drive. We carry in the groceries and I try to help her put them away, but she waves me off.  
“You have other work to do,” she bumps me with her hip.  
“I am on the final chapter of the book; I will get it to you before dinner.”

I slide my translation under her bedroom door before heading into the kitchen. Clint is standing in front of the stove with an apron on that says ‘This chef is whisk taker’ I spot oven mitts that have similar sayings.  
“Gag gift from Tony, little did he know I actually love them,” Clint laughs, continuing to stir whatever is in the frying pan.  
“Did you start the water?” Natasha strolls in from the wing where archives and other documents are stored.  
“Shit, sorry.”  
“No worries,” she turns on the spigot behind the stove and begins to fill a large pot.  
“What are you making?” I walk over and see Clint is frying onions.  
“Pierogis with Kielbasa,” Nat flashes a quick smile at me before opening the oven to check on the sausage.  
“Nat was going to cook it on her own, but,”  
“I’m not a very good cook,” she laughs, “I can make sandwiches and cereal.”  
“And coffee strong enough to wake the dead,” Steve joins us in the kitchen, fresh from a workout. “Sam just left, he said he’ll visit next weekend. This weekend he has his niece’s birthday party.”  
“I just realized, Wanda, we don’t know your birthday,” Clint turns around, looking ridiculous in his apron, “When is it?” I duck my head and play with the rings on my fingers.  
“It was last week,” I mumble.  
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Clint demands.  
“We has only beaten Ultron a few days before, it didn’t seem like a good time.” It was my first one without Pietro, I hadn’t felt much like celebrating.  
“So, you’re sixteen now?” Steve confirms. I nod. Natasha seems lost in thought as she pours the pasta into the now boiling pot.  
“I guess none of us had very sweet sixteens,” Clint sighs.  
“What were yours like?” I look between the three of them.  
“I was in the circus, it was hell. Slept on the ground most nights, just me and my brother.”  
“It was the middle of the Great Depression, for my birthday I had dinner.” Steve looks down. Natasha’s face is dark.  
“I got what every girl in the Red Room got for her sixteenth birthday.” Clint frowns, “Happy birthday sweet sixteen,” she sings before returning to stirring the pasta. I reach for my phone and google the song. I look at the lyrics, _“Tonight’s the night I’ve waited for because you’re not a baby anymore,”_ I think I’m going to be sick; the lyrics somehow get worse from there.  
“Nat,”  
“I’m fine, Clint,” she rolls her eyes. “I barely remember it. Keep stirring those onions, you don’t want them to burn.”  
As she moves through the kitchen, I have trouble imagining her as anyone else other than she is now. She looks as though she could have never been a child. I help Steve set the table, Clint and Nat bring over the food.  
“Consider this your birthday dinner,” Clint offers, “A little bit of home.” I take a bite of the pasta and it is nearly as good as what my mom used to make.  
“I’m impressed,” Steve raises his eyebrows.  
“Well, one of us had to learned how to cook. The only thing you can make are tacos and spaghetti,” Clint serves himself some more kielbasa. After a game of pool with Clint following dinner, I head to my room for the night. On my desk is a graded translation, an A- written clearly in red ink. Also on the desk is a black box with a bow. Inside is a matching wallet for the purse I picked out at Nordstrom last week. I knock on Natasha’s door.  
“Come in,” her voice rings out. Inside, she is sitting on her couch with a book called _On War_.  
“Thank you,” I hold up the wallet. “How did you know?”  
“I didn’t but I figured it would have to be your birthday at some point.” Her lips quirk up into a little smile. “Now go to bed, we have training at eight.”

* * *

  
I head into the training room to get ready to spar with Clint, but find Natasha is the only one there. She sits on the bench next to the mat in her usual training clothes of leggings and a half zip.  
“Where’s Clint?” I ask, setting down my water bottle.  
“He’s with his family, Laura went into labor, you and I are sparring today,” Fear strikes my heart. “I won’t hurt you Wanda,” I need to get better at hiding my emotions. “But Clint and I fight differently.” She pulls her hair back into a ponytail. “You know he once pulled my hair when we were fighting? Granted he was under mind control, but still,” she scoffs. “I fight with style, a bit different than street fighting.”  
“Okay,” I step forward on the mat, my heart pounding.  
“Your left foot should be facing me, extend it out. Your right behind you and facing away from me.” I do as she says, “and your leg shouldn’t be at a right angle,” she fixes me slightly. “There, how does that feel?”  
“Stable,”  
“Good,” she drops into the same stance easily, not even thinking about it, “and you want to stay on the balls of your feet, being flat footed will slow you down.” She clicks the timer on her watch, it’s time to spar.  
It is nothing like sparring with Clint. Her moves are so quick and fluid, by the time I react she is gone. “You are looking at where I have been, not where I am going,” she scolds. I feel a jab on my ribs, then I find my feet coming out from underneath me. I hit the ground with an _oof_.  
“It’s okay kid, you did better than Happy the first time he sparred with Romanoff.” Tony calls from the sidelines. Natasha offers me her hand, pulling me up. My clothes cling to me with sweat and my body aches.  
“Welcome back Tony. To what do we owe this pleasure?” I am currently dying, and Natasha has the poise of a princess.  
“Cap called me about the mission he wants you to go on next week,” She nods,  
“I’ll meet you in your office in five,”  
“You’re leaving?”  
“Yes, it’ll be a quick mission. Just some intel gathering.” Her red hair swishes as she walks towards the bench to grab her phone, “You did well. You’ve been practicing your powers with Steve, right?”  
“Yes, I’m gaining more control,”  
“Good. Next time we spar, I want you to use them.”  
“What?” I gasp, “No! No way,”  
“Not the mind control brain washing, just physical, okay? You won’t hurt me,” she heads out the room, “I’ll see you at dinner!” Natasha calls over her shoulder as she leaves the room.  
Steve and I are the only ones at dinner. It is weirdly quiet.  
“Where are Tony and Nat?”  
“They are working in a plan for this mission, it’s bigger than we thought it would be. We might need all hands on deck for this one.”  
“Really?” A bubble of excitement rises in my chest.  
“Yes, without Bruce, we’re down a man. And I don’t know if Thor will be here in time. He’s dealing with stuff at home.”  
“So, where are we going?”  
“Possibly going,” he corrects. “It’s in Italy,” He puts down his fork. “Hydra has been busy there; we think they might be doing experiments again. We want to go in and shut it down.”  
“Unfortunately for us, next week is also Christmas,” Tony grabs an apple from a bowl in the kitchen before joining us at the dining table. “But the bastards won’t be expecting it.”  
“It will be easier to take down the operation, lower staff for sure,” Natasha reaches into the fridge and grabs the rest of the leftover pasta Steve and I are eating.  
“Clint won’t be happy,” Steve points out.  
“Clint will have to put on his big boy pants and miss the holidays like the rest of us.” Tony replies hotly. “I had great plans with Pepper, but those obviously aren’t happening.”

Four days later, I am standing on the cliffs of the Amalfi Coast. I swapped out my winter coats for a romper and bask in the glow of sunshine.  
“It is so gorgeous here, weird to think that in a few hours we will be killing people,” Clint spits out his drink, laughing at my statement.  
“That ridiculous Italian soda cost me ten euro, Katniss,” Tony observes the crowd, sunglasses on. “Don’t waste it.” I look down the cliffside towards the overcrowded beach. There are so many people here. If I don’t have complete control, a lot of people could die.  
“Hey kid, don’t worry. Cap said you’ve done really well this week.” Natasha offers quiet words of encouragement.  
“Am I that easy to read?”  
“Yes,” she grins, “But that’s okay,” Her black sundress billows in the wind, “We should move out, head to the hotel. We have to prep for tonight. We’ll make our move during mass.”  
“This just feels so wrong.”  
“What? You mean attacking people during midnight mass isn’t on your bucket list, Cap?” Tony jeers.  
“I swear, you two are worse than my kids,” Clint finishes off his soda. “Nat’s right, let’s get a move on.” In the hotel room, everyone changes into their uniform. I look down at my outfit. Black leather pants, boots, and the red leather jacket with a t-shirt underneath. It feels unprofessional.  
“Wanda, what’s taking you so long? We have to go over the plan.” Natasha calls from the living area of the hotel room. I step out in my makeshift outfit and over to the conference table. Steve and Tony are no where to be seen.  
“They went on a coffee run,” Clint explains.  
“So, I am going to go through that vent,” Natasha points to a blueprint of the building we are going into.  
“You won’t fit in there,” Clint shakes his head. _That’s what she said_. Clint and Nat stare at me and then burst out laughing.  
“Oh my God, did I say that out loud?” I look between the two. “I’ve been watching a lot of _The Office_ ,” I try to explain.  
“This might be the highlight of my life,” Natasha clutches her side, “Just so unexpected, out of nowhere.” I bite my bottom lip, trying not to laugh myself.  
“We got coffee,” Tony and Steve strut into the room, “What’s going on in here?”  
“Nothing,” I quickly jump in, “Just going over plans,”  
“Okay, what is the plan, Nat? You’re running point on the operation.”  
“There’s an old factory on the edge of town, it is housing a modified super soldier serum. Our goal is to go in and take it. However, if that is not possible, destroy it.”  
“Should we really be bringing a sixteen-year-old with us?” Tony asks, looking over at me.  
“You want to tell her to sit out?” Nat raises an eyebrow. I try to stay professional and hide how pleased I am about her sticking up for me. “Wanda, there should be no more than four guards stationed outside. I need you to put them out of commission, okay?” I nod. “Clint, you’ll be on the rooftop of this building,” she point to a square on the map, “Warn us if there is anything suspicious, shoot at anything dangerous. Have Wanda’s six while she works her magic. After the outside is secure, I will head in through this window, not the vent,” she looks at Clint, “And then let you two in to help finish the job,” Cap and Tony nod. “Ready?”  
I lie on the ground next to Cap, waiting for the church bells in town to start ringing, signaling the start of midnight mass. It had dropped from the sixties to the forties and I regret not wearing heavier clothing. The bells ring in the distance.  
“Merry Christmas,” Natasha’s voice echoes through our coms, and the games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you loved it! Hope to get a third and possibly a fourth chapter for this fic up this weekend, and another chapter for Silenced as well, which is unfortunately nearing its end. Also that song Nat sang is real and super creepy, its about exactly what you think but worse...  
> Anywho... any kind of feedback is appreciated, please let me know if there is anything you want to see in this fic or part 3! And happy Friday everyone! (see that? Two Marvel characters in one sentence! lol)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission plays out and the Avengers head back to DC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! Four will be up either tonight or tomorrow, I'm almost done with it! Thank you all for the wonderful comments on the last chapter, they made my day! As always, any feedback is welcome, I love to know that I am going in a direction that readers want. Thank you all and enjoy!

Everything goes according to plan. I quickly decommission the four guards outside; they stare blankly off into space and I try not to think about what I could have unleashed in their heads. _They are bad people, Wanda. They are experimenting on children_. Nat opens up the side door.  
“Alarm’s been disabled, move in.” Cap and Steve head into the building.  
“All syringes are accounted for, none missing from the cases,” Steve confirms into the coms. “Ready for extraction.”  
“Guys, we’ve got company,” Clint’s voice rings in my ear, “Armored truck coming down the road. That’s a Hydra patch on the driver’s shirt,”  
“Do not engage Hawkeye, I repeat do not engage,” Natasha commands fervently.  
“I’m going in,”  
“Fuck,” she curses. “Scarlet Witch, do you have eyes on the truck?”  
“No, but I can hear it,” just as I say those words, there is a crash. “It sounds like it just drove into something.”  
“Do not approach the vehicle, do you understand?”  
“But,” A boom goes off in the distance.  
“If you approach that truck, I will kick your ass, do you understand?”  
“Yes, Widow.”  
“Ironman, you’re with me. Cap, stay with the serum.” I spot her sprinting past me with Tony behind her. Kick my ass, sure. I scuff a boot on the ground.  
“Hawkeye do you read?” her voice is becoming increasingly panicked. “Hawkeye?” Screw this. I run towards the truck. Immediately, I know I should have waited. It is obvious why the driver crashed. An arrow is through his right eye. The passenger has one through his throat. He is dying slowly, drowning to death in his own blood. I feel bile rise up in my throat. Quickly, I use my powers to snap his neck, ending his suffering.  
“What are you doing here, kid? Widow told you to wait,”  
“Clint!” a guttural wail escapes Natasha, My heart drops into my stomach. I have heard a similar cry; it came from me when I felt Pietro die. My legs feel like jelly. Cap appears behind me, holding two metal cases.  
“Make sure she stays right there,” Tony runs to the other side of the vehicle. “Cap, you need to call Fury.”  
I sit on the quinjet staring at Clint. Natasha holds his hand, whispering something over and over again. I scoot closer, trying to hear, thinking she is praying.  
“You fucking idiot, oh my God. If you die, I am going to be so pissed at you. You do not get to die on me. Do you understand? It is not an option. You do not get to die.”  
“Wanda, give them some space,” Cap places a hand on my shoulder. Tony sits next to Fury, typing onto a tablet.  
“Hill has doctors lined up in D.C. We should be there in two hours. How is he doing?” Fury looks over his shoulder, Nat doesn’t respond. “Agent Romanoff, status report.”  
“GSW to the leg. Pulse is steady, no sign of internal bleeding. No sign of head trauma.”  
“Then why is he unconscious?” Tony asks. Nat holds up a bloody arrow. “Did you rip that out of a body?” A bit of fabric clings to it.  
“In case it needs to be analyzed. It may have been faulty.”  
“It wasn’t, Romanoff, and you know that.” Fury meets her eyes, “He knew that too.”  
“It was his last arrow, the others where all used.”  
“What is it?” I ask. Tony shoots me a look, now is not the time for questions.  
“It’s a sonic arrow, it creates a sonic boom. It’s meant for large places at a distance. Not for close quarters in a metal box.” Natasha wipes dirt off Clint’s face with a gentleness I didn’t know she possessed.  
“Wanda, come on. You’ve landed,” I blink open my eyes. Maria Hill is standing over me with a tablet. I follow her out of the jet and see we’re on a roof outside of D.C.  
“What is this place?”  
“The Avenger’s Washington base. Come on, the team is already inside.” I rush to catch up with her. I can’t believe the team left me on the jet. Steve and Tony are standing in the hall with Fury.  
“Nat’s in Clint’s room. He isn’t awake yet.” Steve explains, “Laura’s on her way.” Laura, his wife. I frequently forget that Clint has a life outside of us, outside Avenging.  
“He’s stable, no brain swelling.” Tony adds, “It’s just a waiting game for him to wake up.”  
Sam arrives with takeout. None of us had eaten since yesterday afternoon on the cliff. The smell of Chinese food fills the waiting room and my stomach churns. For a while, no one speaks. A woman sprints by, and it takes me a minute to place her. It’s Laura Barton. Natasha joins us a few minutes later, her face giving nothing away.  
“Is he awake?” Steve asks, finally breaking the silence.  
“Yes,” she looks over at him. “It’s not good.”  
“Nat, you’ve got to give us more than that,” Tony says gently. I’m surprised, I had never seen him speak to her with anything other than sarcasm. “They said there was no brain swelling,”  
“He is fully cognizant; gunshot wound was an easy fix. He’s on an IV for dehydration.” She takes a breath. The only sign she is anything other than calm is the way her chest shutters. “He can’t hear anything; they don’t know if it’s temporary. I wanted to give him and Laura some time alone.” Natasha stands up suddenly, like a spring was released. She walks brusquely outside, giving no one an indication on where she plans to go.  
“What’s going to happen now?” Sam asks, looking at Cap.  
“I don’t know,” Steve admits honestly, “We just have to wait.”

I had never been very patient. Natasha isn’t anywhere out front. Across the street is a small restaurant. I jog quickly and open up the door. A bell jingles. The floor’s tiles are cracked, and a hockey game plays on the TV at the bar. There are only a few patrons occupying seats. I scan the room and spot her in the back. She has a grey striped hoodie pulled over her head, hiding her signature red hair. A bottle of vodka sits in front of her with a glass. I sit down in the seat across from her, the cheap wooden chair creaking as I push in.  
“What are you doing here?” She doesn’t look at me but pours herself another drink.  
“You ran out so fast, I was worried about you.”  
“If I wanted company, I would have stayed in the waiting room.” I flinch. Her words cut through me like a knife. However, she has no emotion. Her words are flat, cold and unfeeling.  
“He’s going to be okay,” I offer. “Stark will figure something out, he always does,” She doesn’t answer me. A waiter begins to come over with menus, I give him a subtle shake of my head. I’m fairly certain Nat would crack the bottle over his head if he tried to talk to her. I reach forward and grab her hand. She wrenches it away.  
“What are you doing?” She snaps. I look down and see bits of red flickering on my fingers. I hadn’t even realized. “Go back to the hospital Wanda. I can’t babysit right now.” I try not to show how hurt I am by her words as I stand up and leave. The door slams shut behind me, putting me out in the cold.  
Hill has joined the team in the waiting room. Tony picks halfheartedly at lo mein while Sam and Steve drink coffee. Fury looks at me and frowns.  
“You went and found Natasha?” I nod, biting my lip. “Next time, don’t. She’ll come back when she’s ready.” An hour later, Natasha breezes in. Had I not seen it myself, I would have never known she had downed half a bottle of vodka. She doesn’t cast a single look our way as she goes back into Clint’s room.  
“This is going to be a hard hit,” Steve sighs.  
“I’ll fix it. I can fix this.” Tony assures the room, but it sound more like he is trying to convince himself. Natasha and Laura come out of Clint’s room.  
“He’s sleeping,” Laura offers, looking at all of us. “He appreciates you all being here,” she scans the room, her eyes landing on me, she smiles.  
“Steve,” Natasha nods down the hall. The two of them leave. Laura walks over and sits next to me.  
“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Laura,” she sticks out her hand.  
“Wanda,”  
“Clint’s told me so much about you. Did you know we named our son after your brother?” I shake my head, tears filling my eyes, I push them down. Her husband is in the hospital and she’s comforting me. “Yes, Nathaniel Pietro Barton. He’s got a lot to live up to,” her dark hair falls over her shoulder. “I was always so scared about Clint being an Avenger, here he is, surrounded by gods, and he is just human.”

“He’s the one who convinced me to be an Avenger. The world doesn’t make sense, he has bow and arrow and fights impossible things, but that is what he does. He fights the impossible to try to make world make a little safer, little better.” I twist the rings on my finger, “He is good man,”  
“Yes, he is,”  
“Can I get you anything, Laura? I can send a relief babysitter out to the kids,” Maria comes over and offers.  
“No, my mom is watching them, thank you.”  
“How about a cup of coffee?” She places a hand on her knee.  
“A cup of coffee,” she smiles, “would be great,”

* * *

I am alone at the safe house in Foggy Bottom. Sam and Steve are at one of Sam’s meetings. Natasha and Laura are at the hospital. Tony had to fly out to California for an emergency board meeting. It had been two days since we arrived in Washington D.C. and a cold dampness had settled in the air. The house shakes. I put down my book. The walls shake again and the window behind me shatters. I spin around and strike the Hydra Agent with my powers. He crumples the ground. There are others in the house. Two more enter my room. I fight them off and make it to the hallways where I encounter four more.  
“Where is it?” one of them demands. I blast him to Hell. They want the serum. There is a single vial in the basement that Tony was testing, the rest had been destroyed. Natasha’s words echo through my head, take it, but if you can’t destroy it. I won’t be able to get down to the basement in time with so many people attacking. There must be at least ten more agents flooding the place. I know what I have to do. I summon my powers and send a blast out. The floor gives out beneath us, the walls caving in. The supporting beams in the basement snapped like twigs. I try to float above it, a new power I am working on with Steve. I don’t see the falling bookcase until it hits me in the shoulder, breaking my concentration. I gasp, surprised by the sudden impact. The house falls around me, and I with it.  
I wake up trapped in a hole of some kind. There is so much dust and smoke in the air it’s hard to breathe. A single sliver of light breaks through. I don’t know where I am. In the basement? I must be. The light is coming from above. I try to use my powers to force whatever is blocking my escape out of the way, but I can’t. A weak tendril reaches forward and dies. I’m so tired.  
“Wanda?” A voice calls out, far away.  
“Down here,” I cough. I hear the sound of something falling over and then cursing.  
“Wanda?” I hear again, it’s Natasha. I open my mouth to yell and instead have a cough rack my body. “Hold on, I can hear you,” it is quiet for a few seconds, “Are you under here?” The voice comes from directly above me.  
“Yes,”  
“Okay kid, I need you to tell me if anything hurts. Start at your feet and work your way up. Can you move your toes?”  
“Yes,” I flex my feet. “There’s a cut on my leg, but it doesn’t look too bad,”  
“Keep going,”  
“My back is sore, and my shoulder,”  
“How’s your head?”  
“Fine,”  
“You weren’t answering at first when I called you, are you sure?”  
“I think I passed out from exhaustion,” I reply sheepishly.  
“I’m going to get you out, okay?” I hear her moving above me, shifting things around. “How stable is everything under there? What can you see?”  
“I’m trapped under a bookcase; I think the same one that hurt my shoulder. I’m in a hole of some kind?” I reach out and touch the edges, they’re cement. None of it is significantly crumbling. “The walls are cement, it seems stable.”  
“Okay, I’m going to start moving some things. if anything changes, I need you to tell me immediately.” I hear her set to work. “You need to talk to me Wanda, I need to know you’re awake until you can be checked for a concussion.”  
“I don’t know what to talk about,”  
“You can go anywhere in the world right now, where are you going?” She strains, she must be moving something heavy.  
“Home,” I think of me bed.  
“What would you do if you could be in Sokovia right now?”  
“No, New York, I would on the couch with you and Clint, watching a movie,” She stops moving for a moment, then starts up again.  
“Wanda, keep talking.” I begin to cough, more dust falling down. “I’m almost done,”  
“I’m so tired,” my eyelids are heavy. The bookcase shakes. “Nat, something’s moving,” the crack to my right opens up more and I see a slender hand shoot down. I reach up and grab it. She pulls me out just as the bookcase comes crashing down, landing where I was sitting just moments before.  
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Natasha pulls me in. I cough into her shoulder. “You’re okay,” She lets out another unsteady breath, “We need to get you to the hospital though, bandage up that shoulder.”  
I pull away and see the wreckage I created for the first time. There are at least a dozen dead bodies. Limbs poking out from under furniture and debris. A small portion of the front of the house remains, the front door standing alone. The sides of the house are torn open, exposing the attached neighbors. It is no wonder that I’m exhausted.  
“What happened?” She asks, walking me towards a black sedan. She opens the door for me, and I sit down, wincing when my shoulder hits the seat.  
“These hydra agents came in, attacking from all sides,” I pause to cough, my body trying to expel any foreign materials in my lungs. “They were trying to find serum, and you said to destroy if there was no getting it out. I couldn’t have fought my way to basement,” my accent slips, Natasha is kind enough to let it slide.  
“So, you collapsed the house? With you inside of it?” I nod. “You could have died,”  
“I know, but they can’t have that serum, they can’t make more enhanced people, worth it,”  
“That was incredibly brave, Wanda. But you have to promise me you will never trade your life again. I would rather them get the serum and you live. We can kill a thousand super soldiers, but there is only one you.”  
“You put your life on the line,” I argue weakly. She looks conflicted on how to continue.  
“I’m an adult,” she decides. I laugh but it turns into another coughing fit. We pull up to the base’s hospital entrance. I walk inside, stumbling from exhaustion. Quickly, we are escorted to a room, right next to Clint’s. The doctor finishes examining me and determines I don’t have a concussion. Natasha watches me carefully, as if I may disappear at any moment.  
“I’m okay,” a yawn escapes me, “Can I go to sleep now?” A sad smile graces her face,  
“Yes, Little Witch, you can sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Next chapter will be up soon, promise! Any comments are super appreciated, I loved the feedback! Thank you :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4!! Thank you all for the amazing comments, they truly mean a lot! This chapter is a bit short, and happier (Kinda?) It will get a bit more gritty after this but I wanted some light happy fluff before I put our beloved heroes through the ringer. As always, I LOVE feedback of any sort. The next chapter was supposed to be up by Sunday but it’s become a lot longer and more difficult to write than I expected. I should be up by Wednesday evening at the latest 🤞🏽 Please enjoy! (And please comment lol)

I wake up and stretch, immediately wincing. I forgot about my shoulder. The pain is dull, the signature feel of a local anesthetic beginning to wear off.  
“Hey, glad to see you’re up,” Natasha gets up from her chair.  
“How long have I been asleep?”  
“A few hours.” She sits down on the edge of the bed.  
“You should be with Clint, I’m fine.” I think of her best friend in the room next door, his world turned upside down.  
“I checked in with him a little while ago, he’s worried about you.” I groan. Clint shouldn’t be worried about me, no one should be worrying about me right now. “Okay, stop that,” she chastises gently, “Everyone was impressed with what you did, and Clint’s stable, doing well. They are running tests right now. Laura is with him.” I stand up and walk over to the mirror in the bathroom. Bandages are poking out from underneath the gown.  
“I thought I just pulled it,”  
“You had a shard of glass embedded in there, the bookcase had doors.” There are a few stitches on my calf. “Not too shabby for taking down more than a dozen agents,” she leads me back to the bed, “Wanda, I’m sorry.”  
“For what?” I lie back down, grateful for the soft pillows.  
“How I reacted when Clint got hurt. I was scared and lashed out at you. It wasn’t right.”  
“It’s okay,” I look at Natasha and see her age for the first time. Her eyes hold the greatest horrors of the world. They are hundreds of years old, haunted by what she has seen and done.  
“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. You and I are a team, and I needed to remind myself of that.” She sighs, “Scoot over here, your hair is a mess.” She begins untangling my hair with her fingers, and then deftly puts into in two French braids.  
“Am I interrupting your sleepover?” Tony leans against the door jam.  
“Why, Stark? Want to pillow fight?”  
“Laura heading home to the kids, Clint’s insisting,” Natasha stands up from the bed.  
“I’ll be right back.” Once she and Tony leave, I quickly head into the hall and go to the room next to mine. Clint is lying in bed, staring out the window. He looks good, healthy even. He must’ve seen me out of the corner of his eye.  
“Hey kid, heard you saved the world,” he smirks at his poor choice in words. I give a tentative smile, coming to sit next to him. “Nat and I are bad role models, okay?” he shakes his head, “Self-preservation is weak in everyone on this team, it’s like a genetic trait,” his voice is soft and unsure, so unlike Clint. “I guess that means you’re definitely ours,” I grin at him. “I’m not coming back,” my smile falters, “I can’t. It’s not just dangerous for me, but to everyone else. I’ve lost more than 80% of my hearing, the aids will help, but not enough,” he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, “You’ve got Nat, she’ll take care of you, and you can take care of her. Just think of it as taking out the middleman.” I pinch my lips, trying not to let my tears fall. Natasha appears in the doorway.  
“Clint, can you not make the girl cry?” She moves her hands quickly as she speaks. Clint signs back but doesn’t say anything aloud.  
“How do you already know sign language? It’s been three days,” I look between the two of them.  
“We learned about six years ago for missions, it’s useful when you can’t speak,” Natasha look over at me, “The doctor wants to check your stitches,”  


* * *

Two days later, we drop Clint off at the farm. I look around the living room. It is cozy and exceeding normal. I expected something sleek and modern. I hear the thundering of footsteps down the stairs and see two children, a boy and a girl. The girl clamors for Natasha’s attention. However, Clint doesn’t notice his two children. He jumps as Natasha nudges him, he looks over and sees his eldest son, staring at him.  
“Hey Coop,” his voice falters. Cooper says something. Clint’s frustration is evident, he didn’t get a single word.  
“You’re here,” Laura smiles, stepping out of what I assume is the kitchen. She wipes her hands on her apron. Her smile falls when she sees the aggravation on Clint’s face.  
“Wanda, can you go turn on the quinjet?” Natasha looks over at me. I get the hint and head out of the house, knowing now is not the time for goodbyes. A half hour later, the door to the quinjet opens. Natasha comes in, her shoulders heavy.  
“It didn’t go well?”  
“Clint’s angry, which I understand. He’s doing his best to remain positive, but,”  
“Do you want to stay? I can fly back, I’m sure Cap would understand,”  
“No, we’ve been gone almost a week. It’s time to get back to work.” She straightens up, the heaviness of burden disappearing, as though she decided to stop carrying it. “Tony has been giving you lessons on how to fly this, right?”  
“Yes,”  
“Good, you’re flying us home, no autopilot.” Natasha sits back in the copilot’s chair.  
“Is he going to be alright?” I look over at her.  
“Eyes on the sky,” she reminds me, “But yes. He will be okay. It’s going to be an adjustment, but he’s been through worse.”   
I land the quinjet without incident, much to my relief. A fierce blast of cold hits when we open the door. I had forgotten what weather awaited us in upstate New York. My leather boots crunch in the snow as we make our way from the landing pad to the main building. The snow muffles everything, creating a quiet campus. I feel as though I am inside a snow globe.  
The building itself is even quieter. Our footsteps echo on the tile floors. Natasha slips off her jacket, hanging it up in the coat closet next to the entrance of the living quarters.  
“Miss Romanoff, Miss Maximoff,” we spin around.  
“Vision, I thought you were with Stark in Malibu,” Natasha moves her hand away from the knife she has strapped to her belt.  
“My assistance was no longer needed, I wanted to be here to greet you when you arrived.”  
“Thank you, that is very thoughtful.” I smile at the android.  
“I need to take a shower,” Natasha runs her fingers through her hair, it still holds dust from my rescue. “And sleep for a week,” she waves goodnight.  
“I was sorry to hear about Mr. Barton,” he turns to me, the stone in his head glowing. “I was also upset to hear that you were injured.”  
“It is minor, nothing serious,” I flex my shoulders, as if to prove a point.  
“May I ask,” I look at him expectantly, “Why you remain with this team?” I sit down at the counter. Owl salt and pepper shakers stare back at me.  
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand,”  
“You are not prisoner, or their creation, yet you remain. You are subjected to testing,”  
“School,” I correct with a smirk.  
“and you do not enjoy it, but you continue to perform the tasks that they request.”  
“They were the first people I met who saw me for more than what they made me. Besides Pietro, every soldier and scientist I interacted with, they feared me in their soul. They used their fear to try and control me.” I drum my fingers on the counter, “It’s true that I have to do things I don’t enjoy here, but I am asked to do these things for my own benefit. Anything I am asked to do, none of it has been for their personal gain. It is rare to find people this selfless. I am lucky, they have seen me at my worst and have accepted me in spite of it.”   
“Miss Maximoff,”  
“Wanda, please, just Wanda,” I feel my heart flutter slightly when I look into his blue eyes.  
“Your shoulder is bleeding,”  
“Fuck,” I think of the shoulder flex I did, trying to prove my bravado. I pull down the neck of my t-shirt and see blood soaking through the gauze.  
“Should I grab Miss Romanoff?”  
“No,” She will keep me out of training if she sees I ripped open my sutures. “Can you grab the first aid kit we keep next to the to-go cups?” He ducks behind the counter and rises with the box. I go through it quickly, finding the kit and antiseptic wipes.  
“Are you going to sew the wound shut yourself?”  
“Yes,” I thread the needle.  
“If I may,” he gestures to needle and thread. I nod. Vision washes his hands and then picks up the suture kit, cleaning the wound thoroughly. “This will only hurt for a moment,” With the skill of a practiced surgeon, he sews the wound shut.  
“Thank you,”  
“Of course Miss,” he pauses, “Wanda. I am happy to have helped.” He puts away the kit once more.  
“What do you do with Stark?”  
“I assist him with problem solving, he runs tests to determine the scope of my capabilities.”  
“Why do you let him?” I ask, thinking this must be what led him to ask me.  
“He to help people and understand me. He does not wish harm upon me or others. It is a little service I can provide for being made sentient.”  
“Do you want to do something fun?” I ask, flashing a mischievous grin.  
“Something fun?”  
“Yes, haven’t you ever done something for no reason other than, I don’t know,” I look for the words, “making you happy?”  
“I have never thought about it,”  
“I am going to change out of these clothes, and then we are going to go do _something_.” When I reenter the kitchen, Vision is gone. In his place is a man with pale skin and blonde hair is in his place. I bunch my fists, ready to strike. He looks over at me, and I see Vision’s signature stone glow in his head before disappearing again.  
“Wanda, it is me. I thought that this would perhaps be more appropriate for whatever we are doing, yes?” I relax my fists.  
“Yes, you’re right,” I smile, “Let’s go.” I pause at the front door.  
“What is it?”  
“We don’t have a way to get there, I can’t drive, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to take the quinjet.”  
“We could fly,”  
“Vision,”  
“I can fly us, just tell me where to go,” He offers his hand, “Please hold on tight.” I wrap my arms around his neck and tuck my head down. “Where to?”  
“New York City,”  
We land in an alley on 5th Avenue. We step out into the street.  
“It is very dirty here, and loud.”  
“Yes,” I marvel at it all. There are so many people. So many people living their lives. A couple sits on the stoop of some steps, smoking. A group of girls in small glittery dresses prance by, seemingly unfazed by the frigid winter air. There are people wearing light up glasses and blowing horns. “I think its New Year’s Eve,”  
“Yes, it is December 31st, 10:46 pm.”  
“Oh, Vis, you know what we have to do?” I feel as though my heart my lift off the ground, “We have to watch the ball drop! Come on, first we need food,” I pull him into the nearest pizza shop, buying a slice and a soda. “Don’t you want any?”  
“I do not eat, my apologies, Wanda.” I feel myself deflate slightly, “However, I am quite happy you are enjoying the pizza.” He places a hand on mine. I look down at his watch, it is 11:15. “What time is your ball drop?”  
“Midnight,”  
“Should we get going if we are to see it?” I nod and stand up, throwing away my plate and empty soda can. The streets become more crowded as we push towards time square. I look down at my phone. Four missed calls from Natasha, and its 11:50.  
“We aren’t going to make it,” I sigh stopping in my tracks, and then yelp in surprise. Vision has scooped my up in his arms. Within moments we land atop a billboard, facing the famous crystal ball. Below us, people are packed together. There are cameras flashing and laughter fills the air.  
“This is quite something. So many people coming together for a single moment,” he smiles at me. Vision scoots closer to me, trying to get a better view as the people below begin the countdown. “What happens when they reach zero?” he asks. The anticipation builds up in my heart, and Vision holds my hand as we wait to start the new year together. _One_.  
“Happy New Year!” I turn and kiss him, pressing my lips into his. I pull away breathless, my cheeks flushed with adrenaline. Fireworks shoot off and confetti falls like snowflakes around us. “You are supposed to kiss someone, when you ring in the new year,” I bite my lip, waiting for a response.  
“Happy New Year, Wanda.” His eyes shine with warmth, and his squeezes my hand. I lean my head on his shoulder, watching the city that never sleeps welcome a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this bit! As previously mentioned, the coming chapters will be a bit darker. I probably won't go too deep into the Vis/Wanda relationship, it is more of a background feature of the story. I'm not 100% how I feel about their relationship in general but it is too important to ignore completely. Any feedback is welcome! Thank you for sticking with my story!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, this chapter gets a pretty dark! Not extremely graphic, but I like to err on the side of caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Okay so this chapter is officially kicking off the events of this portion of the series. I really hope you all like it. It was originally way longer but I decided to split it into two separate chapters, it may even become three. Any feedback is welcomed, I love comments! This chapter gets dark really quick, so just a warning. Please enjoy!

My phone is ringing again, I am in so much trouble. I pick it up, holding it away from my ear.  
“Wanda? Wanda is that you?”  
“Hi Nat,” I laugh nervously.  
“What is going on? Are you okay? Did something happen?”   
“I am fine, really. Everything is good.” I hear her take a deep breath.  
“Then what the fuck were you thinking?” She has become completely calm. “Where are you?”  
“I am in New York City, with Vision.”  
“You could have told me, or at least left a note,” Yes, in hindsight, a note would have been a good idea. “You are sixteen, Wanda. You cannot just go gallivanting around like you have free reign.”  
“Why not? Because of my powers?” I snap.  
“No. I literally just said because you are sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds don’t get to leave the house in the middle of the night and go to the biggest city in the country without telling anyone.”  
“I told Vision,”  
“He is with you,” she is struggling to keep her voice steady. “I am coming to get you. I expect you to be waiting in the lobby of the tower when I arrive.”  
“Miss Romanoff is upset with us,” Vision’s human façade slips, making him look like himself again.  
“No, she is upset with me.” I sigh. “We should head over to the tower; she might kill me if she gets there first.”

“We should wait inside,” Vision suggests. I shiver on the bench outside, too stubborn to accept the idea.  
Natasha’s Porsche pulls up. I frown. Where is vision going to sit? Natasha rolls down the window, her face stony.  
“Stark called. He has something he needs Vision for back in California.” Vision nods.  
“Of course. Thank you for tonight, Wanda. For showing me fun,” he dips his head and shoots off towards the sky.  
“Get in the car.” I open up the car door and sit down, waiting for a lecture. For an hour, we drive in absolute silence. When I go to turn on the radio, a single look stops me.  
“Natasha,” I begin. Another look scares my voice away. We arrive at the compound and she pulls into the garage. “I’m”  
“I don’t want to hear a single word come out of your mouth.” She locks the car and we begin to walk towards the main building. I go into my bedroom and turn around; she waits in the doorway. “Do you understand what it looks like when I leave my bedroom to check on you and Vision and find you both gone. No note. The cars are still here, the jets. It looks like you disappeared. Like someone came in and took you. I called and you didn’t answer. So, I called again. And again. I was in the process of hacking Apple to try and find you. You don’t get to run off in the night like that. You are a sixteen-year-old girl with hits out on her. You are an Avenger. This is a responsibility that you need to shoulder. You made a choice.” She crosses her arms. “If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I will have you benched indefinitely, do you understand?” I nod. She takes a breath like she wants to say more, but instead turns around, closing the door behind her. Despite the verbal lashing I just received from Natasha, I can’t help but feel flutters in my stomach thinking about how I just had my first kiss.

In the morning, I slink out to the kitchen. Natasha is standing at the counter, a mug of black coffee in hand. A cup waits in my usual spot at the counter, cream and sugar already added. I sit down and wrap my hands around the coffee, reveling in its warmth. We stare at each other, waiting to see who is going to break the silence.  
“I’m sorry,” I bite the inside of my cheek, “It was reckless and stupid.”  
“Yes, it was,” she agrees, sipping her coffee.  
“Am I going to be punished?” I think of when I was being tested on by List, the punishment for not performing to his expectations.  
“No, we talked it out, and you know not to ever do it again.” I shrivel under her gaze. “Wanda, we are never going to lock you up. I don’t want that to be something you’re worried about. You will never be our prisoner, understand?”  
“Yes,”  
“Don’t think I’m not still pissed at you though, I am definitely still mad.” She rinses out her mug in the sink. “We’re skipping combat today; I have some things to work on. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” She slips down the hallway towards the communications department. I have nothing to do. I do a load of laundry and work on a German to English translations. Having this downtime is mind-numbing, and I wonder if Natasha knew this. A small penalty for the panic I caused. I think of going down to archives, but I am under strict orders from Tony not to bother any visiting agents unless necessary. My entertainment is not vital to the fate of the world. I head down to the gym and run four miles. Only twenty minutes have passed.  
“Wanda, change of plans.” Natasha appears in her catsuit. “We’re going to Brazil, grab your duffel and meet me at the quinjet in ten.” The jet is waiting on the back lawn by the time I run out with my bag. “Steve, Tony, and Sam are already en route. We should be there in three hours.” The jet speeds off. We land just outside a small village in a field.   
“Good, you made it.” Tony floats down in his suit.  
“What’s going on? You didn’t say much over the phone,” Nat closes the door to the ship.  
“One of my satellites picked up a large heat signature coming from the area. It wasn’t here last week. Someone is building something that requires a lot of energy. Local authorities and business have no idea what it could be.” Steve and Sam run up,  
“It looks like they are manufacturing weapons of some kind, we are thinking bombs.”  
“How would bomb manufacturing be picked up by your satellites? Is it nuclear?” Nat asks.  
“It’s not, we checked. It actually has a similar signature to the Chitari weapons,”  
“Similar?” she raises an eyebrow.  
“Okay, identical,” Tony replies, “But it could be a coincidence, we don’t want to rule anything out yet,” We follow Tony out to through the woods. Though the village was deserted, the forest is as well. There are no insects chirping or birds singing.  
“Something is seriously off,” Sam’s fingers dance nervously on his gun.  
“Where’s Vision?” I ask Tony. Natasha shoots me a look.  
“He is helping Pepper with some schematics,” he replies in a tone that clearly indicating now is not the time.  
The woods open up to a clearing with a metal warehouse. It is grossly modern with stainless steel sides and sharp angles. It looks entirely out of place in the dense wilderness. There appear to be no guards.  
“Something is definitely not right,” Natasha agrees with Sam.  
“Wanda, stand guard,” Tony commands. The four of them head inside. I jut out my bottom lip. There is no one around for miles.  
“There’s just a pile of weapons in the center of the room.” Cap sounds bewildered over the coms. An insect lands on my neck, I go to swat it and my hand touches cold metal. Suddenly, shocks are sent throughout my body. My muscles freeze and I can’t move. I try to speak but my jaw is locked shut. Two men jump silently from nearby trees. I stand rigid, my heart pounding. One of them takes the com out of my ear while the other puts me in a straitjacket, binding my arms to my body. As soon as the jacket is locked, the bug stops electrocuting me. I collapse to the ground, writhing in pain. Before I can call out, a gag is stuffed in my mouth. No. I think of Natasha’s panic just last night when I didn’t come home. They have no way of knowing what is happening. Maybe they will ask for me on the coms, and when I don’t answer they run out. I have no way of knowing. I am carried over the larger man’s shoulders, my head bumping against his back. I watch as the warehouse disappears from view. I remember one of Natasha’s first lessons: if they let you see where you are going, they don’t plan on every letting you leave.

We are in the car for hours. By now, my muscles have relaxed and stopped twitching. I try to undo the jacket, but it is no use. Hopefully when they remove it, I can make my escape. We reach what appears to be an old factory. A faded sign reads _Caixa de Banana_. The car pulls up to a loading down and I am thrown onto the cracked concrete. My pants rip across the knees, splitting open my skin. The smaller man grabs the back of the jacket, pulling me along the ground. We go up a ramp and inside. There are wooden crates with banana’s painted on them, long since abandoned. Some have been gathered together to form a makeshift table and chairs. There are three more men. They stand up when they see me, eyes alight.  
“You got her?”  
“Of course we did,” the smaller one huffs. He takes a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and reaches to put one part on my ankle. I kick him square in the jaw. The others roar with laughter, which he doesn't appreciate. He hits me so hard I see stars. I can taste blood in my mouth. He attaches the other end of handcuffs to a pipe and walks back over to the other goons.  
“I don’t see why Boss went through so much trouble for her. He bought an entire fleet of alien weapons from some guy in New York just to trick them into coming down here. What if she hadn’t come with them?”  
“He must want something with her,” one of the new men shrug, “As long as we get paid, I don’t care what he does.  
“You guys want to see something?” the larger of the two kidnappers ask the guards. He clicks something in his palm and I see the bug flying towards me. I try to scramble back but it lands on my cheek. My body locks up in pain and I bite down on the gag. A muffled scream escapes me this time.  
“Can you get her to shut up?” one of the guards looks up from his phone.  
“The boss will be here in ten minutes,” the small kidnapper replies, “We shouldn’t have to deal with this for much longer.”  
“What’s with the electric shocks anyways?” The one with the phone seizes me up.  
“In case the straitjacket doesn’t work. He is 100% sure how her powers work,” I take inventory of the three guards and two kidnappers. I memorize their faces. I try to focus my mind, maybe I can escape the binds. Another shock sends my body in spasms.  
“What are you doing?” A sixth man walks into the room. Unlike the others, he is wearing a lab coat and scrubs.  
“Just showing the guys our new toy, Boss.” The small kidnapper states. The man pulls a gun from his lab coat pocket and shoots the man in the chest. I watch in horror as he sinks to the ground, slowly dying. If he is willing to do that to his own teammate, I shudder to imagine the horrors that await me.  
“She is not a toy, let’s make that clear. She is our one chance to replicate the serum used on her and the boy.” Pietro. “Bring her down to the lab, I have all the equipment set up.” I am unlocked from the pipe and roughly dragged down a set of stairs to a basement.  
Through a steel door is a bright white room. The floor, walls, and ceiling are sterile and clean. There is a wealth of medical equipment and machines. I think my heart may stop when I recognize a handful of them. I am lain across an examination table. I try to fight it when my feet and head are bound. When one of the guards removes my gag, I spit at him. Before I have the chance to say anything, a leather bit is shoved in my mouth. A chill goes through me. I know what this is for.  
Panicked, I try once more to escape, arching my back, thrashing anything. A collar is slipped around my neck, and then electrodes suctioned to my head. I try to pull away once more as the doctor approaches, and I am met with a searing pain travelling through my body.  
“Okay,” the doctor snaps on latex gloves, “Let’s get to work.”

I think it has been two days. I have been given water through the bit in my mouth, and nutrients through a feeding tube. They plan to keep me for a while. They take blood and marrow. Every two and a half minutes, there is a shock, keeping me docile. They only times this stops is when other tests are run, or during the blissfully minute time I am permitted to sleep. I am plagued by nightmares, but any hell is better than this one. The doctor who has been running the tests is gone. His second in command, the guard who had a phone, administers minor tasks, such as taking samples and running scans. He looks over at his coworker, the surviving kidnapper.  
“They say she can lock someone in their mind,” he leans over, “Drive them crazy, give them a different reality,” A shock runs through me concurrent with an idea. I can leave. I can escape. I am down to 140 seconds until the next shock. I close my eyes and relax my muscles. For the first time, I let my powers control me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, any feedback is super appreciated! Thank you all for sticking with my story! Next chapter will be up in a few days!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked really hard on this chapter, I hope you enjoy! Thank you all for the wonderful feedback, any comment really helps. Knowing I am going in the right direction makes such a huge difference. Please, do not hesitate to make any requests for future chapters or part 3 of the series!

“Wanda, please get up, you can’t be late twice this week,” I blink open my eyes sleepily. The morning sun shines into the room. Natasha stands in the doorway, a laundry basket on her hip. I look around the bedroom, all of my things are there, but it is not my room. Rather than the modern grays and sharp edges, the walls are a buttery ivory and the floors are a warm hardwood, covered with a woven rug. There’s a sloping ceiling and a window seat. Dust floats in the air like fairies. “You are going to be late for school, come on. Pietro is already finishing breakfast,” Pietro? I bolt out of bed and find I know my way to the kitchen.  
Downstairs, I see the back of Pietro’s head, hunched over a bowl of cereal with a math textbook propped open. I pause at the sight of him. He wears a soccer jersey, and his hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction. Even the hunch of his shoulders in concentration is reminiscent of both him and our father.  
“Piet? Is that really you?” I venture into the room.   
“Of course, who else would it be?” He looks at me like I have grown a second head.   
“I don’t know,” it occurs to me I don’t know why it wouldn’t be him. Natasha runs into the kitchen, now changed into a suit, a business suit, not a catsuit. Rather than her hair being shoulder length as it normally is, it is long and curled.  
“What? Is there something wrong with my outfit?” She asks, looking down.   
“No, it’s fine.”   
“Speaking of outfits, why aren’t you dressed yet? We have to be out the door in ten minutes,” she tugs on her heels. I go back up to my room and change into jeans and a t-shirt. The weather for the week is written on a whiteboard, along with any plans. On Saturday, Steve, Pietro, and I are going hiking. I spin the cork globe on my desk. The pins have moved. Australia and Florida are two notable additions. Vacations. Disney. The Great Barrier Reef.  
“I know I am the fast one, but please hurry up!” Pietro calls from downstairs. At the front door, Natasha hands me a protein bar and a to-go cup of coffee. We step outside. It is a tree lined street with modest but well-loved homes. As we reach the sidewalk, I look back at the house. It is a charming yellow Cape with a white picket fence and rose bushes. The roses are coming in early, trying to push out winter with by the sheer willpower. In the driveway, Natasha’s black SUV is parked, her Porsche nowhere to be found. I hurry to catch up with her and my twin as they walk down the sidewalk. Despite the winter chill, I feel warm.  
“Are you ready for your math test?” she asks Pietro.   
“Yes, studied all night.” He turns back and smiles at me, like he is sharing a joke.  
“That is total bullshit, I saw you cramming at breakfast,” I tease. I’m surprised by the lightness in my voice. Natasha laughs as well.  
“What can I say, I’m a fast learner. Cramming gets results,” We turn the corner as the block ends, and I see our high school.   
“I’ll be working late tonight but should be home by six with takeout from that burger place you guys like. Text me what you want.” She pulls us in for a hug that Pietro quickly shrugs off and dashes inside. I stay in her embrace for a moment. A hug from Nat is rare, I think I have received one in my months of knowing her, and it was after I almost died. “Are you okay? You’re acting a little off this morning,”   
“Are you going on a mission?” I ask, “Undercover?”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“The outfit?”  
“What? Is this too ‘former spy’ for Stark’s communication department? You should have said something back at the house,” she tugs on her shirt, balancing her purse and coffee in one hand.  
“Former?”   
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She places a hand on my forehead. “No fever,” she frowns. “I can call in if I need to, this has been a lot of adjustment for everyone over the past few months. If you need a day,”  
“No, I’m fine.” I smile, “I’ll see you tonight,” She doesn’t look entirely convinced but nods and waves goodbye, heading back in the direction of our house. She seems to be fishing in her purse, then pulls out her car keys. As she disappears from sight, I hear the warning bell for first period. I am surprised to realize I know my way around and sit down in my seat beside Pietro in English. We sit in the back, a poster of the novel _The Joy Makers_ hangs behind me, and I find my hair getting stuck to the tape. I pull it away with a frown.  
“You’re being weirder than usual,” Pietro studies me. I shrug and pull my homework out of my backpack to hand it in.   
“Maybe you’re just being more annoying than usual,” I quip. Halfway through the class, Pietro nudges me and nods to my hand. The pencil I was twirling between my fingers had begun to float. I quickly grab it and flash an apologetic smile. He goes back to taking notes.  
“Okay, we a starting a new book this week, Heart of a Dog, can anyone tell me what it’s about?” I shoot my hand up in the air and Pietro casts a curious look. The teacher looks just as a surprised. “Wanda?”  
“It is a Russian novella that is a critique of Bolshevism during a time of decreased communism. It is the story of a doctor who experiments on a dog, giving him human features. It can be considered the Soviet Frankenstein,”   
“Uh, yes, that is correct.”  
“How did you know that?” Pietro leans over.   
“I don’t know, I just did.” I shrug, “probably read it online.” The book is handed out. “This translation is trash, Nat would agree.”  
“You are acting very strange today,” Pietro shakes his head and flips through the book. The rest of the day goes by slowly. Everyone is friendly, but beyond Pietro I have no friends. When the bell rings, ending the school day, I wait for him by the front steps, shivering in my light jacket.   
“Ready?” He hops down the stairs and lands in front of me.   
“How did your math test go?”  
“Aced it of course,” he scoffs. We step into the house and he opens the fridge, pulling out leftover pizza.  
“Do you remember when we used to have to steal to eat?”  
“Yes, you told me I was going to get shot,” he takes a bite of the cold pizza. I feel a nudge in the back of my mind but push it away. He slides the box over to me and I grab a slice. After texting our orders to Natasha, we head up to our rooms to work on homework. A six on the dot, the front door unlocks.   
“I’m home and brought company,” Natasha calls from downstairs. Clint is sitting at the kitchen counter, cracking open a beer while Nat pours herself a glass of wine.   
“Hey guys,”   
“How are you settling into the new house?” Pietro asks, looking through the paper bags on the counter until finding his burger.  
“It’s great, but you guys are going to hate having me and the kids so close, we’ll never leave,”   
“If it means Laura can start cooking the family dinners on Sundays, that’s fine with me,” Nat laughs, “clearly my skills are limited based on the amount of takeout we eat.” The conversation settles into a debate about last night’s hockey game while we eat dinner. After dinner, Clint leaves and we settle on the couch to watch TV. Lightning strikes outside. After a few minutes, it does again. However, no thunder or rain follow. The news comes on, every story is a happy one. A kitten was saved from a tree. Crime is down. The economy is doing well. The width of the political aisle is narrowing. There are more jobs than people.  
Around ten, we shut off the TV and head upstairs. Pietro complains I used up all the hot water, while Nat reminds us to set our alarms. As I crawl into bed, I feel amazingly content. There is a familiar knock on my bedroom door.  
“Can I come in?” she steps in wearing a matching pajama set. Her hair hangs loose down her back. When she sits on my bed, swishes, tickling my nose. “Little Rabbit,” she twitches her nose in response. I grin at her. “How are you? Are you adjusting okay?”  
“Yes,” I assure her, pulling my blankets tighter.  
“I know it is hard, to have these powers, to be different. You are doing a remarkable job. I am so proud of you and Pietro, we all are.”  
“Do you ever feel like we could be doing more?” I ask,  
“More?”  
“Yes, using our powers to fight crime, like in Ultron.”  
“I think if we were needed, yes. But the world doesn’t need the Avengers. There are no threats, no invading aliens or AI to worry about. Even petty theft is down. The world is a safer place than it used to be. I think maybe we are a nuclear deterrent,” she laughs. “But you are sure you’re okay? You can always talk to me,”  
“I know, I am okay.” Nat brushes my hair away from my face, “Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight, my sweet,” She leans down and kisses my forehead, then turns off the light.

Two weeks go by. Two weeks of family dinners, going to Pietro’s track meets, and making plans for the Valentine’s Day Dance. Sunday, we had everyone over for a playoff game. Football, Clint insists, is an American tradition that Pietro and I must catch up on. Vision, The Barton’s, Steve, Tony, Pepper, crowded into the living room to watch the game. At the end, Tony declares that the Super Bowl in two weeks will be at his place. Thor is coming, and we all won’t fit in such a small space. I hold _The Republic_ , going over the Allegory of the Cave for history. However, as I sit in my window seat, I get distracted by the lightning. It comes like clockwork, every 150 seconds. I count out the two and a half minutes, but the lightning does not come. The only other time the flash has stopped is in the early hours of the morning when the world is devoid of color and everything hovers in a state of gray.  
“Wanda,” Natasha asks. She isn’t supposed to be home for another two hours. I turn around, surprised. However, even more so when I see she is not in the doorway. I blink and suddenly she is sitting in front of me, her face close. When I blink again, she’s gone. “Come on Little Witch, I know you’re in there,” I freeze. The nickname feels like it came from a lifetime ago. Her voice is strained. I try to figure out where it is coming from. I drop the book.  
“Nat?” I look around and feel someone squeeze my hand. There is no one there. Trusting my instincts, I close my eyes and squeeze back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! It was inspired by Wandavision! (how great was the preview we got during the Super Bowl?!) Anywho... thank you all for following along, and as always, comments are amazing and appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for some mild descriptions of torture and unintentional self harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky #7! This chapter was really hard to write, sorry if its a bit on the short side! I really hope you all enjoy it. I would love some feedback as this was a little out of my comfort zone. Thank you all so much for following along with the story!

I open my eyes and see Natasha in front of me. Behind her, there is a body slumped against the wall, blood pooling around him. There is a clear bullet hole in the center of his forehead. I look around. This isn’t my bedroom. The walls and floors are a sterile white and I am lying on a table of some kind, the cold metal against my bare back. A lab coat is draped over me.  
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” she comforts, “Cap, I founder her,” she presses a finger to her ear, “Meet you back at the rendezvous point,” Then, she scoops my off the table, gently holding me in her arms. I feel like I am in a daze, everything is slow. I fall asleep.  
I crack open my eyes. I’m in a soft bed surrounded by pillows. Natasha is sitting on a dining chair next to me. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.  
“Hey kid, how’s it going?”  
“You cut your hair,” I reach out to touch it, but my hand shakes. I drop it in embarrassment. Her smile lessens. “Where is Pietro?” My voice sounds like it is made of glass. Natasha’s smile has now faded completely. “Where are we?”  
“We’re at a hotel in Rio,”  
“How? I was just in my bedroom in New York,” I look down and see she has put me in fresh clothes rather than the lab coat I woke up in.  
“What is the last thing you remember?”  
“Pietro was telling me about the Valentine’s Day Dance at school and I went up to my room to read a book. You were on your way home from work,” I look down and see she is in a catsuit rather than her work clothes. “Why are you wearing that?” I feel my heartrate increasing.  
“Wanda, take a deep breath, slow down,” My gasps for air become more frequent and shallower. Something is wrong. I look at Natasha, she seems off.  
“Why do you look different? Where is Pietro? Why are we in Brazil?” I cry  
“You’re safe, okay? I promise you are safe, no one is going to hurt you,” Why would anyone want to hurt me? I think of the dead body against the wall where we were before.  
“Can you open the shades?” She does it without question and I see an expansive night sky. We sit in silence as I count in my head. One hundred and fifty comes and goes. “There’s no lightning,”  
I feel a tug at the back of my mind, a thought is skirting on the edge of my conscious. A loose thread to pull, and I tug. I see it now. The pain. The experiments. I remember it all. The visual cues and actual acts are blurry, but the pain is not.  
“No, this can’t be real,” I try to stand up, my knees knocking together. Natasha catches me before I can fall over. I flinch and sink slowly to the ground. “No, no, no. This is a nightmare,” I look at her, “You work at Stark Industries in communications. We live in a yellow house in the suburbs. You walk Pietro and I to school each morning.” I rub my fists into my eyes, trying to burn the imagine in place. I try to hold onto the world as it slips away from my grasp. This can’t be real. This is a nightmare. Wake up. I hit myself, trying to force myself out of this hell. Wake up. Wake up. Each hit gets stronger, but nothing changes. Natasha pins my arms to my side when I go to try again. I writhe, trying to free myself from her grasp, “Please, I need to go back. I have to go back,” I gasp.  
“Wanda, that world isn’t real,” her voice is soft but commanding, “This is real. You’re safe now. Nothing else is going to happen to you.”  
“I want to go back,” I cry, wrenching free.  
“I know, but this is your real home,” she pulls a blanket off the bed and drapes it over my shoulders. “You can’t leave to look after the boys alone. The Avengers need you, Wanda,”  
“The Avengers disbanded after Ultron,” I whisper weakly. Most of my heart knows that isn’t true, but I need to hear her say it. To confirm it.  
“The Avengers are still a team. Steve is on his way here now and then we will go home.” There is a knock at the door. Natasha stands up, “I’ll be right back, will you be okay?” I nod and she heads out to the living room.  
“Hey, glad you finally made it.” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.  
“Nat, I was in São Paulo. Where is she? How’s she doing?” Steve matches her tone.  
“In the bedroom, and well, you’ll see,” She comes back into the room and smiles at me. Steve isn’t so skilled at hiding his emotions.  
“Cap,” Nat warns. I cannot begin to imagine what I look like to have received such a horrified reaction from my teammate. He is in his Captain America uniform rather than the jeans and T-shirt I am accustomed to. I think of our hike last week.  
“Hi Wanda,” he tries to smile but I comes out as more of a grimace, then looks back to his partner, “Let’s get going, I left the quinjet running,” I stand up unsteadily, the room spins. Natasha’s hand lightly supports me. My entire body aches, down to the bones. My muscles are tight. My hands won’t stop shaking. Cap goes to grab me. His eyes drift behind me for a moment, to Natasha. He hesitates. “Is it okay if I carry you?” he asks gently.  
“I can walk,” I insist. However, with one step forward, the floor and ceiling become the walls. “Okay,” I agree, closing my eyes. He picks me up and we reach the quinjet on the roof of the hotel.  
I sit on the seats curled into myself, resting my head on Natasha’s shoulder as Steve flies without a copilot.  
“You can sleep,” she offers. Her voice vibrates against my ear as it echoes through her chest.  
“I don’t want to,” I push my shaking hands into fists and pull them against myself. “So, Clint is gone?” Natasha stiffens.  
“He is still very much alive,” Natasha assure me quickly.  
“I meant he’s retired,”  
“Oh, yes. He is.”  
“I don’t want to be here,” I whisper.  
“I know,” she brushes my hair out of my face and for a fleeting moment, I am back in the yellow house.

I wake up in my bedroom at the compound. It has been two days since we arrived from Brazil. It takes me a minute to orient myself, to remember. This was real. That wasn’t. Sometimes the two seem to blur. There is a knock at my door. It opens and Natasha enters with a tray of food.  
“Hi,” she sets the tray on the bedside table, “How are you doing?” I am still not used to her. The shoulder length hair and guarded eyes. But what I saw was an ideal version of the people I love, not who they really are. I think of us trying to make a chocolate cake a few days ago, instead we got batter all over the kitchen when the speed on the mixer was too high.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” She sits down on the armchair, tucking her legs onto the seat as well. She reads me like an open book, she knows what I am thinking without any powers. I look over at her cautiously, it feels like a trap. Anything I say is bound to upset her. The fact that I created a faker version of her, a version I thought was better. However, her expression holds nothing but compassion, the farthest thing from a trap.  
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,”  
“You might,” she admits, which surprises me, “but it will help, help differentiate what’s real and what’s not.” Right. She went through this, trying to distinguish what’s fiction and what’s reality. 

“I was always in both places, even if I didn’t know it,” I look at the tray of food and carefully take a dinner roll. “There was lightning all the time. It didn’t seem out of place, maybe a little odd. Enough to get noticed, but not cause alarm. Every two and a half minutes there was a strike. The shocks after the first two days weren’t enough to injure me. Just hurt, break my concentration, make sure I couldn’t escape.” I freeze, seeing the doctor pushing a needle into my arm while his prized pupil initiates shocks.

I tear myself away from the memory. Nat is concerned. I look down at the dinner roll, it was crushed in my fist. This isn’t what she meant when she wanted me to talk about it. I think of the second in command, slumped over the wall when I first woke up. He was shot twice. The head second. Natasha knew to make him suffer.  
“Does it make me a bad person?” I ask, placing the roll back on the tray.  
“Does what?”  
“Being happy that you killed them, that you made him suffer.”  
“No, it makes you human.” She pulls the chair closer, “I would be more concerned if you felt nothing.” Her voice is soft.  
“I don’t feel human. I have no place in this world,” Not anymore. Her eyes flicker blankly for a moment, lost in a memory. When she comes through, they are filled with pain, her mask has slid off.  
“You have a place in this world,” her voice is thick with emotion, “You belong here, with me, with Vision, and Cap, and the rest of the team. Your place in the world is by our side. We are all incredibly lucky to have you in our lives. Wanda, you are good, so good.” She pulls the blankets up to my chest. “I am so lucky to have you. You remind me to be a better person and of my place in the world,” I think of what Clint said in the hospital, to look after Natasha as she looks after me. There is so much about her I don't know. “You should get some rest, I’ll come back in a little while to check on you.” She reaches to squeeze my hand but begins to pull away. I reach out and grip it, my hand shaking. We will be each other’s lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter, as previously mentioned, a little out of my wheelhouse. The next chapter will be out by Sunday at the latest, but I am hoping by Friday. Silenced should have a new chapter Wednesday evening. Thank you for reading! any comments would be greatly appreciated. Also, I would like to thank those who left comments and suggestions, they really helped point me in the right direction. Okay, Carly out! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to finish this chapter so quick! I hope you all enjoy it, it is a bit on the lighter side as the next chapter is much darker. Life's all about balance, right? As always, any feedback is welcome! Enjoy!

“Good morning Wanda,” Vision phases through the wall.  
“Vis, you can’t do that, what if I had been changing?” I blush. However, changing by myself meant being able to stand for more than a few seconds. I think of what the doctor said, that I am healing at a rate almost as fast as Natasha and Cap, but it will still be a while before I am back to normal.  
“My apologies, Miss Romanoff requested that I come check on you.”  
“I’m still here,” I mutter. I had tried to go back, it didn’t work. I only gave myself a massive headache. “Would you like to come out to the kitchen? Natasha is making sandwiches,”  
“That is the only thing she makes,” I get up from my bed. The pain has become less pronounced in the past few days, but an ache still covers my whole body. I steady myself against the wall, closing my eyes. My center of balance is off. Tony called me Bambi yesterday. I heard bits of a verbal lashing Natasha gave him yesterday.  
“May I offer my assistance?” I open my eyes; he is holding out his arm. I reluctantly take it. Vision is painfully patient with me as I walk unsteadily to the kitchen. I feel nauseous by the time I sit at the counter.  
“Here you are,” Natasha hands me a sandwich, cut into fourths. She leans across from me, eating hers.  
“We went to the food court and had hamburgers and French fries when we first got back from Sokovia? Right? That was real?” It was the first moment I felt a bond with the assassin. I look at her hopefully, praying it wasn’t a figment of my imagination.  
“It was real.” A tension I didn’t know I was holding releases from my shoulders. Some things are easier to tell apart than others. If they took place in the house or at school, they’re fake. If the memories are here, they’re real. The rest, I don’t know. My favorite memory of Clint was fake. So was Thanksgiving at the Avengers Tower.  
“Hey guys,” Steve enters the kitchen, “Did you happen to make me one of your famous PB and J’s, Nat?”  
“Do I look like your personal chef, Rogers?” She nudges him playfully but hands him a sandwich.  
“Clint introduced me to _MasterChef_ , I really think you should try out.”  
“Was that sarcasm from Captain America,” she pretends to be shocked and looks over to me, “Who has replaced our Boy Scout?” I force out a tired smile. I think of my hike a few days ago with Cap. It was frustrating, keeping up with him and Pietro. However, using my powers to brush snow off treetops and land on them made up for it. The hike ended with a three-way snowball fight. _Not real_ , I remind myself. That never happened. “Wanda?” Natasha asks gently. I blink.  
“Sorry, I missed that.” My eyelids feel heavy. “I think I am going to go back to bed,” I stand up and stumble forward, Steve catching my arm. “Spasybi,” I mutter. “Fuck, sorry,” I run my fingers through my hair.  
“Don’t be, you’re okay.” Nat soothes. “Vision, can you go help Steve with the chopper? I think one of the blades are bent.”  
“Miss Romanoff, I checked yesterday and,”  
“Come on Vision,” Steve says more sternly.  
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I explain quickly, steering us away from my bed. Natasha stands outside with the door open, trying to give me some semblance of privacy. At this point, any pride I had left has been diminished to dust. I make my way to the sink and stare in horror at my appearance. Under my eyes is so dark it looks like I smeared them with soot. My face is gaunt, and my skin looks stretched. My eyes, one of the few things I ever admired about myself, are dull.  
“You good?” she pokes her head in and sees me staring in the mirror.  
“I look like a raccoon on crack,” she gives a short laugh.  
“You do not,” I tilt my head in disbelief. “Maybe a regular raccoon,” She teases. “Just one who needs to sleep and rest.” I try to detangle my hair with my fingers. It isn’t working, it is too knotted. I try tearing my fingers through, Natasha tenderly pulls my hand away.  
She leaves the bathroom for a second and returns a moment later with my desk chair. “If you want to, I can fix it for you,” she offers.  
I nod and sit down in the chair. I think my legs may cry in relief. She goes into my shower and comes out with conditioner. She empties a decent amount into my hair and begins to slowly work through with a comb.  
“Okay, let’s rinse it in the sink.” I lean forward, my left cheek on the cold marble as warm water washes my scalp and drips down my neck. She braids it back and I look in the mirror. I look more human. I feel more human. I try to smile at her. I am not nearly as good at fronting emotions as she is. “You don’t have to do that for me.” She shakes her head and helps me up. I lie down in my bed, grateful for the familiar embrace. “Turn on your side, away from me?” she asks. She has done that, made everything a question, a choice. I’ve noticed. She is trying to give me a sense of control, as clearly, I have anything but. Even though I know the trick, I think it is working. I turn away and she rubs her hand on my back in a circular motion. The slow and repetitive act is like a form of meditation. I feel myself relax for the first time since waking up.

* * *

I sit on the couch, trying to watch TV. It switches to commercial. I lean back with a sigh. I look at the ceiling and notice that there is a dart board painting on it, and it looks like an assortment of darts stuck in. I use my powers to pull one down and sigh in relief when I see they are magnetic. I send it back to its rightful place. I imagine this is what Clint and Tony used to do together before Clint retired. The compound feels empty. Vision and Sam are on a mission. Nat and Steve are on missions too. It is Nat’s first in three weeks. Her first since I threw everyone’s lives off course.  
“What are you watching?” I look over at Tony, my babysitter for the week.  
“ _Full House_ , I’ve never seen it before.” I have been watching nothing but sitcoms for the past few weeks. I have finished _The Brady Bunch, Bewtiched, I Love Lucy,_ and _Friends_.   
“You know, Michelle kind of looks like you, if you were ten years younger,” he takes a chip from the bowl I poured.  
“Kind of, I guess. Maybe more like if I had a sister.” I squirm uncomfortably next to him, never quite sure how to talk to the enigmatic billionaire.  
“How are you? Is there anything I can get you?” he sounds just as uncomfortable as I feel. Even during our training lessons, we hardly interact.  
“No thank you,” I look at the TV. Michelle just scored a goal for the wrong team.  
“Do you want to come down to my lab with me?”  
“Sure,” I agree, a little hesitant. We walk slowly towards the elevator. The vertigo finally stopped last week. However, the walk from the couch to elevator feels like it goes on for miles.  
“Welcome,” he opens up the door and I look around. I take deep controlling breaths. “You good kid?”  
“Not a huge fan of labs,” I think of all the testing performed on me. The needles and syringes. The cold metal tables against my bare back.  
“Of course you’re not, sorry.” He ushers me out quickly, closing the door behind us. “I’ve got a better place, come on.” We step outside into the cold and I wish I had brought a jacket. He leads me over to the garage. I look around. Inside are at least a dozen cars. There’s also a biplane and a helicopter. In the back is a workstation covered in scrap metal. It occurs to me that I have never been in here before. Nat has always picked me up out front. I see Natasha’s SUV and Porsche. I notice for the first time that the hubcaps on the Porsche's wheel’s look like spiders, with a signature red hourglass in the center.  
“Yes, she has okay taste in cars, mine are better,” he nods to a row of cars with the stark logo. “I keep my collectibles in Malibu,  
“Collectibles? People collect cars?”  
“Yes, they are in my workshop back home, beautiful antiques.” He sits down at a work bench, “Come here, I want to show you something.” I look over his shoulder at a small piece of plastic, about the size of a penny. He pats the seat next to him. I take it gratefully.  
“What is it?”  
“Hopefully new coms. I still have a lot of work to do on them before they’re ready for the field.” He spits it open and I see a microscopic circuit boards accompanied by equally small wires.  
“It’s amazing,”  
“We’ve all got our superpowers,” he quips. I watch him as he works diligently, pointing out tips and tricks. Most of it goes right over my head.  
“I don’t think I am your next intern.” I laugh.  
“Probably not, but your less chatty than Sammy.”  
“Do you know what the missions they’re on are?”  
“I believe Sam and Vision are working on something in Iceland. Cap is in Prague; Nat’s mission is for Fury. Nothing to do with the Avengers. Apparently, that information doesn’t concern us and is being kept off books.”  
“How did you learn all that?”  
“A terribly angry phone call from Maria Hill for hacking into makeshift SHIELD’s database.” He hands me a com, “Put this in your ear,” I put it in and he runs out of the garage. “Can you hear me?”  
“Yes,”  
“Okay, now crush it and then say something.”  
“What?”  
“Just do it, Little Red.” I do as he asks, crushing it with the heal of my boot.  
“This is dumb,”  
“No its not!” he comes running back into the garage. “Giving you enemies a false sense of security.” He picks up the broken com, “The actual com is about the size of a grain of rice,” he explains, “I put it in a larger shell. So, once the shell is broken, it seems like the com is. But really, it retunes the to device to be even more sensitive, picking up on subtle sounds.”  
“Are you developing this because of what happened to me? Tony, you couldn’t have stopped it, they never said anything.” I am touched, I had no clue that he even cared about me.  
“We could have heard the direction they were going, anything.” He holds up the device, “I call it Communication and Listening Advancement Mechanism, CLAM.”  
“Because the little com is like the pearl?” he turns to look at me.  
“You know what, that hadn’t even occurred to me.” He grins, “You may not have a future as an inventor, but you are on my short list for the naming committee.” He spins around in his stool. “You ever have shawarma?” I shake my head. “FRIDAY? Order double my usual from that place I like.”  
“Right away, boss.” He shoots me a signature Tony Stark grin and I can see why Natasha secretly likes him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you want to see anything in the coming chapters or part 3 (Chapter 1 of part 3 should be posted in the next few days) please let me know! Chapter 9 will be out late Feb 6! I seriously love comments, they make my day! Thank you all for sticking with me through this fic, I hope you like it as much as I enjoy writing it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *trigger warning for violence, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and talk of suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9! The story is going to continue to pick up speed, so I hope you all are ready! I really hope you like this chapter, it delves a lot in Nat's background. As always, feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy!

I’m sitting on the couch as the last of the winter sunshine bathes the living room in a warm light. Tony had just left, heading back to California. I hear a bag drop and look over. Natasha gives me a weary smile and sits down on the couch. Her face is smudged with dirt and her hair is falling out of its braid. She is tense and on edge but trying exceptionally hard to hide it. She sits on the corner of the couch, not leaning back. It had only been three days, but she looks like she hasn’t slept in a week. She picks the remote up off the coffee table,  
“What do you want to watch?”  
“I don’t care,” I shrug, “You choose,” her jaw clenches. “Nat?” I look over at her. Her eyes are seeing something else. She’s having a flashback, the first since the Nutcracker. I wave my hand in front of her face. I’ve been working on controlling my powers with Cap, I can do this. I put out my hand and send out red tendrils to remove her from her memories. Instead, I am sucked in.

* * *

A gun shot goes off. I see a young Natasha, barely old enough to be out of high school. She is standing over the body of a maid. Around us are six other bodies of men in expensive suits. Each killed execution style. Her breath comes in short gasps, as she tries to find composure. She’s been shot in the leg. She can’t take her eyes off the dead maid.  
“Black Widow, you’re a hard woman to find.” Nat turns around to face the door. It’s a younger Clint. He lowers his bow when he sees her face.  
“Aren’t you going to kill me?” she asks calmly.  
“You’re a kid,” he stares at her baby face.  
“I’ve never been a child, and I am definitely not one now.” She replies, “Do what you came to do.”  
“You aren’t going to fight back?” She hesitates,  
“I don’t think so.” Her head turns to looks back at the body of the maid, “They said to kill whoever got in the way.” Her face is devoid of emotion, “I did.” She looks back to Clint, “I am your mission. Are you going to kill me?” She asks again. This is the closest Natasha Romanoff has ever, or will ever, come to begging. Clint lowers his bow completely.  
“No. I’m choosing not to kill you.”  
“You are going against your mission.” She cannot conceive of the idea. “They will kill you for it. I am not worth that.”  
“They won’t kill me for disobeying orders,” he looks closely at young Nat. “Come with me.”  
“I cannot. It is not part of my mission.”  
“Come with me, fight the good fight, do good,” She looks at him curiously, “Pick to come with me,”  
“Pick?”  
“You choose,”

A different memory pops up. We are in a lab. There are five dead scientists. Four with gunshot wounds, the other looks like they were strangled with their lanyard.  
“Natasha, you can’t just go storming into the facility and start killing!” Clint glares at her.  
“They were our targets, right?”  
“Yes, but that’s not the point. Especially if they are unarmed and don’t resist.” She surveys the room and then walks over to a computer, sticking in a flash drive. “I know its our first mission, but I thought you wanted to be better,” he frowns, “You’re what? Seventeen? Seventeen-year-olds shouldn’t do this,”  
“I’m not seventeen,” she crosses her arms as she waits for the computer.  
“Sorry, eighteen.” He rolls his eyes.  
“I’m not eighteen either,” she sticks out her bottom lip like a petulant child, not helping her case. However, Clint looks both confused and horrified.  
“Are you sixteen? Younger?”  
“I’m twenty-one, almost twenty-two.” She begins to type in the computer, turning away from him.  
“That’s not possible.”  
“July 4th, 1984.” Her hair, still long, falls in front of her face as she types.”  
“But you look so young,”  
“Yes, I know.”  
“Good genes?”  
“Hardly.” She pulls out the flash drive, “Sorry for killing a bunch of evil scientists. Let’s go.”  
The scene changes again. I watch as Natasha goes through the room like a machine. She snaps a man’s neck like it’s a toothpick, take another man’s head and closes it in a steel door, caving it in. With a gun in each hand, she shoots twelve men in seconds, each with a bullet in the center of their forehead. Five minutes later, there are at least two dozen men dead.  
She spins around, gun raised, pointed at Clint, who is just steps away after running onto the scene. Clint looks maybe a year or two older than he was in the last memory. Natasha looks the same.  
“Nat, it’s okay. It’s done. You can lower the gun.” Her muscles are so tense that they twitch beneath her catsuit. Her eyes flicker around the room, unsure of what they’re seeing. She looks confused, slightly dazed. Clint, however, doesn’t seem scared to have the gun on him, like he was expecting this. “Natasha, the mission is over,” He steps closer to the gun. My heart stops. He gently takes the gun from her hand; I’m surprised to see she lets go easily. He guides her over to a chair and she sits down. He crouches down in front of her, her eyes clear.  
“I,” she looks around at the bloodbath, her face pales.  
“Let’s get going, Laura is going to be pissed if we’re late for Cooper’s first birthday,”  
“I had my gun on you,”  
“You didn’t shoot me,”  
“But I could have. And look at all this death. What kind of person does _that_ without even thinking?” she gestures to the man whose skull she crushed. “This was so stupid, to think I could change, to think I could be good.”  
“Nat,”  
“I’ll never be more than what they made me.”  
  


* * *

I am pulled out suddenly and violently. I look up at Natasha who has jumped off the couch. The look in her eyes is reminiscent of a cornered animal. Animals are their most dangerous when trapped.  
“Nat, I,” She does give me the chance to finish. She turns around and walks out of the room with slow and controlled steps, heading towards the armory. It is like it’s taking all of her control not to kill me; it probably is.  
What did I just do? My heart is pounding. The Nat I just saw was one she never wanted me to see. I know this for a fact. She was a cold-blooded killer, more weapon than human. For the first time, I am afraid of her.  
“Fuck,” I groan, leaning back on the couch. This is why she didn’t want me to see. There is another part of her entirely different than the one I know. I remember her standing in my room with a laundry basket. Her hair is pinned back and she’s laughing at something I said. She puts down the basket and comes over to my desk.  
“This translation is crap,”  
“I know, that’s what I said! Pietro,” I freeze. This isn’t a real memory. I shake my head trying to get rid of the thought.

It has been two days and I haven’t seen Natasha once. The only sign that she hasn’t left the compound are the occasional mug in the sink or clothes in the dryer. Each time I enter a room, it feels as though she just left. I knock on the door to Cap’s office. He is sitting at his desk, still in uniform after returning early this morning from his mission.  
“Hey Wanda, what’s up?”  
“Have you talked to Nat?” I ask hesitantly.  
“Yes, just a few minutes ago, why?” He doesn’t know. She didn’t tell him.  
“I’m looking for her.”  
“Oh, she’s at the firing range.” He goes back to looking over a report. I head down past the training area and gym, towards the armory. I spot Natasha’s signature red hair in the same braid it was a few days ago, though now accompanied by a paid of shooting earmuffs. Her stance is relaxed as she fire six bullseyes in a row. I tap her shoulder.  
Instantly, I am pinned against the wall and hear the click of a gun cocking as the cold metal is pressed to my temple. I immediately think of her memory with Clint when she almost killed him. However, as quickly as it happened, I am unpinned and Natasha has turned away, beginning to gather up her weapons. She takes of the earmuffs.  
“Never do that again, do you understand? If I hadn’t hesitated, you’d be dead. If you need my attention when I’m in here, turn on that light,” she points to the red lightbulb on the ceiling. I watch as she carefully cleans her favorite gun, a gift from Clint. An arrow is engraved on one side, on the other is an hourglass. She slides it into her belt and head towards the weapons room to put the others away, not even giving me a glance.  
“Nat,” I rush to keep up with her, my muscles straining. She puts her weapons away quickly and begins to rush towards records. Suddenly, the walls are moving. I stumble, knock my head against something, and splay out on the ground.  
“Shit,” I hear some muttering. Natasha’s face swims in front of me. “You’re bleeding,” she huffs, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” She appears again a moment later.  
“Does this make up for when I tackled you in the Thanksgiving football game and gave you a bloody nose?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.  
“That never happened,” she says quietly. I feel the sting of the antiseptic on my forehead. The world stops spinning.  
“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to,”  
“You fell. Not your fault.” She puts a bandage on my head and stands up, clearly eager to get away. “   
“That’s not what I meant,” I sigh, but she is already gone.

I sit at the dinner table with Steve. He hands me a plate of pasta.  
“Where’s Nat?”  
“She’s visiting Clint for a few days. She’ll be back soon.” He looks at me curiously, “What happened to your forehead?”  
“Nothing,” I look down at my spaghetti, appetite gone.  
“You okay?”  
“Yes, just a rough day.”  
“Do you want to do some light sparring tomorrow?” He offers, “We can take it slow, work our way up.”  
“That actually sounds great,”  
“Don’t look so surprised. I am known to have a good idea now and again.” He laughs, “Your food is going to get cold,”  
I wait in the gym at seven for Cap to arrive. For the past two weeks, we had been working on controlling my powers, something that doesn’t take so much physical strain, more mental. The gym door slams and Steve walks in, putting down his bag.  
“You ready?”  
“Yes,” I bound over to the mat.  
“Don’t get frustrated when we can’t go has hard as we used to, okay? We’re going to get there, I promise.” He places a hand on my shoulder. I nod and drop into a fighting stance. He goes for a punch and I dodge it easily. The dance on me being of the defensive continues. It’s wearing me out. I go in for a hit. He blocks it easily. Somehow, I end up in a choke hold, exhausted. “That was really good,” I scoff. “No, really. First fight back and you held your own for a good twenty minutes.” He tosses me a water, “You should be back in the field in a few weeks. I don’t doubt it.”  
Sam and Vision come back that evening, but only stay for two days before leaving again. Sam had to go home to DC, Vision to California to work with Tony. I spar with Cap, slowly getting my strength back. Walking from my bed to the couch is no longer a marathon. But Natasha still hasn’t come back.  
Finally, five days after leaving, she returns. I walk by her bedroom and see her sitting on her couch, reading.  
“Nat?” She looks up from her book. She makes no movement to greet me, but snaps the book shut. I take this as an invitation. “What are you reading?”  
“The original Art of War, in Italian.” She replies coolly. The kind features I had come to know are nowhere to be found. It is like a stranger is sitting in front of me.  
“I’m sorry,”  
“I know.” She opens back up her book.  
“Do you want to spar?”  
“No.”  
“I didn’t mean to,” she doesn’t look up, “it was accident. I thought I could help, I thought I could pull you out of the memory,” her mouth twitches. It is the most of a reaction I have gotten out of her, I grab it. “I would never go into your mind on purpose, Natasha, I promise.” She frowns, “It makes me feel gross after, like I violated someone.”  
“You did.” Her voice is leveled and cuts through me like a knife.  
“I know, and I hate that I did this to you.”  
“I saw how you looked at me after.” She finally meets my eyes. “You’re scared of me now, not that I blame you. You’ve been looking at me like you’re not sure I’m human. I wonder the same thing every time I look in the mirror.” She thinks of something and laughs coldly, sending a chill down my spine, “You know how many times I’ve tried to kill myself? I can’t. I physically cannot do it. It has been built into me; I can’t do it.” I bite the inside of my cheek, “By the time Clint found me, I had killed 137 people, that I knew of. All my memories I have before him finding me are what they wanted me to know. I was twenty-two and had killed dozens of people. You think I don’t know I’m a monster, Wanda?”  
“I don’t think you’re a monster,” I look around her room, at all the photographs. There are hundreds. “A monster doesn’t care this much for other people,” Something flashes on her face, an emotion so quick that if you weren’t looking for it, it had never been there. Natasha picks up her book and goes back to reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I can't believe I did this to them! Comments and feedback are always appreciated! I hope you liked this chapter!  
> I don't know if people read the end notes, but if you do, chapter 8 had some foreshadowing for Part 3 that starts this weekend!  
> Thank you again for following along!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****trigger warning for discussion of non-con*******
> 
> Also, would like to add that the events of Welcome Home take place before Silenced, sorry for any confusion this has caused!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10! Thank you all for continuing to read this story, I honestly can't believe I am up to 900 hits, does not feel real! I wanted to wait to post this until the story reached 1000, but I was too excited to share lol. Please enjoy! As always, comments are always appreciated! (And happy Friday!)

I wake up screaming. My bed comes crashing to the ground, the wooden frame shattering. This is the third bed I’ve broken since I was rescued. Its only been a month. I feel like my lungs are collapsing, like I will never breathe again. The mattress tilts into a slope. I slide to the end, putting my head between my knees, my feet on the ground.  
“You’re okay, you’re safe,” she repeats over and over again until I stop sobbing. However, by the time I look up, she is gone.  
In the morning, I step into the kitchen. She is sitting with Cap, drinking coffee. I go over to the carafe and pour myself a cup.  
“Are we sparring again today?” Steve asks. I turn around. Nat is gone.  
“I don’t think I’m feeling up for it,” I reply, pouring myself a bowl of cereal, “I’m still sore from yesterday.”  
“You okay, kid?” I nod, biting my lip. Tears threaten to pool over. “Do you want me to get Nat?” I shake my head, tears running down my cheeks. “I, uh,” he pats my shoulder.  
“What was that?” I laugh, still crying.  
“I’m sorry, I never know how to comfort women when they cry,” he rubs the back of his head.  
“Yeah, you’re really bad at it.” I laugh again, my tears drying up.  
“Maybe I’m not so bad, you are laughing now.” He buts me with his shoulder as he heads out of the kitchen. I stare at my Cheerios as they dissolve into the milk. The bowl goes flying across the room and crashes into the wall. Milk splatters everywhere and the cereal falls into a single wet clump on the floor. I send my mug flying too. Relishing in the release. The cabinets burst open and with a deep breath, all the plates and cups come flying out, shattering against the wall.  
“Wanda?” I turn and feel my power fade. Vision rushes over to me. “Are you all right?”  
“I don’t think so,” I answer honestly, looking at ruined kitchen. I feel an odd detachment to the wreckage. “You’re supposed to be in California with Tony,” I accuse.  
“I wanted to come and see you.” He goes into a closet and returns with a broom. I big to pick up the larger shards of porcelain by hand while Vision sweeps up the glass. “FRIDAY, please order replacements for everything,” Vision asks as he sweeps the last of the mess in the bin.  
“I messed up, Vis. I messed up bad. And half the time I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. Did Tony really propose to Pepper? Did Clint teach me how to shoot a bow? Did we really kiss on New Year’s?” I look over to him, scared to hear the answer to the last question.  
“No, no, yes.” He rests a hand on my cheek. My lip quivers. He bends down and kisses me tenderly. He pulls away and I stare up at him. “Was that okay, Wanda?”  
“Yes, very much so,” I reply.  
“You are still upset, I thought that would help, unfortunately I miscalculated.”  
“No, it was really nice. Just,”  
“What is bothering you is a problem bigger than a kiss can solve?”  
“I did something awful to Natasha,”  
“I am sure it can’t be that bad, you would never hurt anyone, especially her,”  
“I did,”  
“Unfortunately, I don’t think I am the best team member to help you with this problem. Have you considered reaching out to Clint or Steve?”  
“Yes, I will give that a shot,” I lie, smiling at Vision. This seems to calm him, the crease between his brows disappearing.  
“Perhaps you should lie down, you are looking a little pale.”  
“Oh Vis, um,” We enter my bedroom. There is a new bedframe, the mess from last night cleared away. My bed has even been made; the throw pillows carefully arranged. Vision places the throw pillows on the ground and pulls back the comforter. “I really am fine,”  
“Wanda, you should sleep.” He pulls the shades shut. Before he leaves the room, I am asleep.  
When I wake up, there is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on my nightstand, cut into fourths. Its on a paper plate. I take my sandwich and step out of my bedroom. There is no one in the living room or kitchen. Vision must have gone back to California, Cap on his mission. It’s nearly ten o’clock. I am alone. I wander through the compound and come across the entrance to the observation deck. I realize with a start that I have never been up here, I am always below. I step out onto the catwalk and am surprised when I hear the thump of knives hitting wood. I lie down on my stomach with my sandwich and look down. Natasha is below, headphones in, throwing knives at a wooden target. Each of the four hit a different corner of the bullseye. She retrieves them and starts again. The knives hit the same spot every time. As she goes back for the fourth time and crouches down to grab them, she sinks to her knees. She rests her head against the target, her shoulders shaking. Then she stands up and starts again. Each throw is as precise as the next. Her concentration doesn’t waver again. After nearly an hour, she stops and grabs the knives from the board a final time. I watch as she packs away the knives, locking them up, and pulls the board off to the side. The gym is empty once more. I go to grab another bite of my sandwich and realize I have finished it. I send the plate to the trash and leave the catwalk. My mind wander back to Nat, hunched over crying. My heart twinges.  
In the middle of the night, I wake up as my bedroom door opens. I quickly close my eyes, feigning sleep. She moves across my room so silently; I would have never known she was there were it not for the blankets being pulled up as I am tucked in. I feel her fingertips hover at my hair line before disappearing. When I open my eyes once more, she is gone.  
It is like living with a ghost. In the kitchen, the new boxes of plates and cups have been unpacked. Crudely attempted pancakes sit under the warmer. Why does she do all these things for me but won’t even talk to me or look at me? I pick up the plate of pancakes. They taste better than they look. After washing the dish, I head back to my room and begin to work on Latin translations that I later slide under Nat’s door. Lunch is waiting for me on counter. That evening, so is dinner. But I eat alone.  
Finally, as I wander through the archives, I find her. She is surrounded by manila folders, splayed everywhere. Some appear to be a single sheet of paper, others thick enough to be a novel.  
“Natasha?” she looks up with a start and then quickly begins to close the folders, gathering them in her arms. “Wait, please.” I hurry to think of something to say, “Thank you for the pancakes this morning.” She hesitates on picking up the next file, her hand hovering just above the paper. However, the spell doesn’t last. “I dropped off my Latin translations.” I chew my lip.  
“They are graded and on your desk.” She gathers the last of her files off the floor.  
“Please look at me,” I beg.  
“I can’t.” she replies quietly. I feel my heart drop. “You saw the real me,” she trails off.  
“That’s not the real you!”  
“Yes, it is. What you saw is very much a part of who I am.” She faces the hall, refusing to look back. “We don’t get to pick and choose what makes up a person. You don’t have to like that part of me, you don’t have to like me at all. But neither of us get to deny that she exists.”  
“Wait,” but she has left.

* * *

In the morning, I step into the kitchen and surprised to see Natasha. She doesn’t greet me, but she doesn’t flee either. A glimmer of hope rises in my chest. There is a cup of coffee with cream and sugar waiting for me.  
“Good morning,” I pick up the mug. She doesn’t look up from her tablet. Her head is drooped and she shoulders are folded in. I have never seen her look less like herself. I shattered her trust, something I didn’t even know I had been given. Her eyes dart back and forth on the screen, the only signs of life. I am not even sure if she is breathing. “I think I am going to head down to the gym.” She looks up from her tablet suddenly, like a trance had been broken, and begins to rinse out her cold cup of coffee. I strain to see what she had been reading that had her so enrapt. The tablet locks quickly.  
“We’re going to California. I will see you on the quinjet in two hours.” She heads back to her room, closing the door softly behind her.  
I stand in my closet. She hadn’t even told me what we’re doing. Is it a mission? Are we visiting Tony, Pepper, and Vision? I resist the urge to stomp my feet like a child. She didn’t even say how long we are going.  
At ten fifty-five, I walk out onto the landing pad, duffel in hand. Natasha is wearing civilian clothes and I feel a surge of relief that my instincts were right on what to wear and bring.  
“Everyone else is already there,” she puts the jet into autopilot. “We should be in and out. Hopefully back to New York by Sunday.” Clearly, I am supposed to know what we are going to. I pull out my phone and Google it. Tony is have a fundraiser for the victims of Ultron. I look over to Nat. Despite having autopilot on, she has her eyes trained on the sky. We land three hours later.  
“Welcome to California,” Pepper greets me with a smile. Steve is behind her and claps an arm over my shoulder as he boards the quinjet. He casts a worried glance at Natasha, he clearly knows more than he lets on. We step out and I am amazed by how warm it is. The sun shines down on us, so different than the overcast sky we left.  
“It is beautiful,” I see the ocean behind the house, palm trees sway in the light breeze.  
“Yes, my house really is,” Tony appears beside us. “Come on, let’s go inside.” I am brought to my room and see my dress for the gala hanging on the hook. I unzip the garment bag and look at the black silk gown underneath. It is gorgeous. I begin to head down the hall to thank Pepper when I hear Tony and Cap speaking in the next room.  
“Where’d Romanoff go?”  
“She said she had some errands to run,” Steve pauses, “Fury briefed me on the mission. It was a honeypot.”  
“Natasha does those all the time,” Honeypot? What does that mean?  
“This one was bad, Tone. It wasn’t a normal mission. She had to let herself be kidnapped and held in captivity. He sent over her case briefing. Gang rape. Beatings. They tried to kill her, they thought they did, hitting over the head with a chair. She woke up in a ditch in the woods. She said she did what she had to do to get the info. Ended up saving a few dozen women from the beginnings of a sex trafficking ring.”  
“Hell of a first mission back from leave.” This was just two weeks ago? My mind flashes to Nat coming home with dirt on her face. That was dirt from her grave. I think I’m going to be sick. I turn around to run down the hall and back towards my room when I face plant into someone. I fall onto my back and look up panicked, scared of being caught eavesdropping. Instead, I am looking up at Natasha. She sees the look on my face. Her eyes betray her for a moment.  
“No, wait, Nat, it’s not,” She is already gone. She thought that reaction was to her. I feel whatever progress I had made with her disintegrate. I go back to my room and begin to get ready.  
“Hi Wanda,” I look up from curling my hair and see Pepper.  
“Hi, thank you so much for the dress,” I gesture to the gown hanging up behind me.  
“Oh, that was all Nat,” she smiles, “Can I help?” She take the curling iron from my hand and starts working on the back. I have never spent much time with Pepper, her time at the compound is always brief, and usually spent with Tony. “You have gorgeous hair,” she compliments as she pins half of it up, “Done.”  
“Thank you, you did an amazing job.”  
“I’ll see you downstairs,” she squeezes my shoulder. I frown in the mirror at my exposed shoulders. The scar from collapsing the house in DC is still there. It feels like a lifetime ago, not weeks. It is ugly and red against my pale skin. I sweep my hair off to the side, covering it. With one final look in the mirror, I head downstairs to look for Vision.  
“Hi,” I frown when I see him in khakis and a polo.  
“Sorry Wanda, I will not be attending,”  
“Why not?”  
“It does not seem appropriate.”  
“But you defeated him.”  
“Yes, but he created me.”  
“I _helped_ him.”  
“The world doesn’t know that,” he reminds me. “I will be here when you get back. You can tell me all about it.” I join the others in the limo. Natasha’s gold gown catches in the low light as she turns to talk to Steve. She laughs at something he says, but its hollow. We arrive at the LA Convention center fairly quickly. Outside of the car, paparazzi crowd around the red carpet. Celebrities stand with politicians. When we get out, I see Rhodes and Sam waiting for us. They look incredibly bored.  
“You guys are late,” Rhodey crosses his arms.  
“It’s my own event, I can’t be late,” Tony points out as he hooks his arm around an apologetic Pepper, disappearing into the throng of donors.  
“Don’t worry kid, its not as scary as it seems,” Steve assures me, stepping out with Natasha, who now has both Steve and Sam on either side. Rhodey disappeared. I take a breath and head out onto the carpet. I flash a nervous smile at reporters, trying to face every one that calls my name.  
“Wanda, are the rumors true that you helped Ultron?” A microphone is shoved in my face, “And that a house explosion in DC two months ago was your doing?” I feel panic rising in my chest. Panic means powers. I can’t lose control here, not around so many people.  
“She is a kid, what’s wrong with you?” Natasha sweeps in beside me.  
“Was she granted a Visa? Is she a threat to national security?”  
“Yes, she is here legally,” Natasha’s jaw twitches, “And she is not a threat to you, but I might be,” Natasha reaches forward and grabs the mic, snapping it in half like a twig. “Your press privileges have been revoked. Leave or I will personally remove you.” She wraps her arm around me and quickly guides me inside. “Deep breaths, deep breaths.”  
As we enter the bathroom, she drops her arm and begins to leave.  
“Wait, thank you,” I grab her arm back.  
“Are you okay?” She looks down at my hand.  
“Yes, thanks to you.” She pulls her arm from my grasp. Her arm is red from where my grip was, I didn’t realize I was holding on so tight. “I overheard Steve and Tony earlier,” I blurt out as she begins to move back towards the door, “They were talking about your mission last month,” She stops walking towards the door, her back rigid. “Is that what all your missions are like?” She hesitates, like she doesn’t know whether or not to lie to me.  
“My solo missions, yes,” she admits and turns to look at me. Her masked has totally slipped. Her face is lined with pain. A horrible combination of grief and fear.  
“You go through that every time?”  
“Some are worse than others.”  
“Why do you agree to it?”  
“It is my job,” her voice hardens, “It is what I was trained to do,” I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. “You didn’t know. You didn’t know what I really am. It was a nice fairy tale to live in, but that’s all it was. It was a fantasy world where I was more than what they made me to be.”  
“You are not a monster,”  
“Wanda, I see the way you look at me now, you don’t even notice.”  
“You’re projecting,” I accuse. She raises her eyebrows, “I’m not afraid of you,” I state firmly. Natasha’s lips quirk into a sad smile. She reaches into her clutch and my heart starts to pound. Instead of a knife or a gun, she pulls out a tube of red lipstick and goes over to the mirror. I hate myself for assuming it would be a weapon, for thinking for a moment that she would hurt me. I hate that the thought ever flitted through my head.  
“You are, and you should be,” she looks up at me briefly before returning her gaze to fixing her makeup.  
“I trust you,” I move to block the exit, “Maybe I am a little afraid of you, I don’t know. But I do know I trust you. You will never hurt me.” Her face is blank, she is hiding something. It hits me with a jolt. “You don’t trust me.”  
“I am trying not to hurt you Wanda, can’t you see that? Can’t you see how hard I am trying?” she pleads, turning around, “Every time I look at you I see the expression on your face after you went into my head, I just,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m trying very hard to trust you again, but it will take me a while to get there.” She slides the lipstick back into the clutch and it is like a switch was flipped. Her shoulders relax, her chin is tilted up, her expression smooth. “We need to get back to the party. People will be wondering where we are.” Her words are clipped and professional, like everything isn’t ripping at the seams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you liked this chapter! Nat and Wanda are making progress, slowly but its happening! Thank you all for your comments, a special shout out to my frequent commentators- your recurring compliments and observations help tremendously, you know who you are lol. Any who... next chapter may be up tonight because the first draft is already done. Part 1 of the series is ending this weekend, while Part 3 is starting, circle of life my friends. Thank you to everyone for following along with Nat and Wanda. Hope you have a wonderful evening!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I got so many lovely comments on the last chapter, thank you so much! You are all so kind! Also, the first chapter of part 3 has been posted! Please enjoy! Lastly, to clear up any confusion that may exist (due to the fact the I have been posting parts 1, 2, & 3 all at once lol) the timeline for the fics is (1) Welcome Home, November 2015-October 2016; (2) Silenced, October 2016- March 2017; and (3) Lost, March 2017 onward. Thank you all again for sticking with the story!  
> (Also my mind is totally blown that I have over 1000 hits, cannot even fathom it!!!)

I spend the rest of the evening watching as everyone interacts with the world around them. Tony is talking to Elon Musk while Steve chats with The Rock. Rhodes is telling his favorite story, the one the Avengers never find impressive. Sam is flirting with the bartender. I wish Clint was here. I had ended up texting Clint, per Visions request. The message went undelivered. I spot Natasha in deep conversation with Pepper at a high top, though neither have drinks. Twelve million dollars is raised. I feel happy for my home country, but it doesn’t take my mind off the fact that I torpedoed the only real relationship in my life.  
Back at the house, I crawl into bed, still wearing my dress. I look down at the pillows and see my makeup has smudged all over the white sheets. An hour after getting back, Vision phases through the walls.  
“What, Vis?”  
“Wanda,”  
“I don’t want to talk,”  
“Then we won’t talk,” he lies down next to me and I curl up against his body. He radiates warmth. In the morning, I roll over to find the Vision has left. I pull a pillow into me, holding it tight. It does not have the same effect.  
“Wanda,” the door bursts open. “Are you still in your dress?”  
“Haven’t you people ever heard of knocking!” I howl, putting the pillow over my head.  
“Let’s go for a hike, I’ll meet you outside in ten, okay?” I give a muffled yes to Sam, dragging myself out of the bed.  
I find him waiting on the back deck where steps lead down to a cliff walk. We hike in silence for nearly half an hour before he speaks.  
“So, you and Nat are doing so hot, huh?”  
“You noticed?” I pause and look over at him, “No one else seemed to.”  
“You mean the two frat boys and the microwave?” He shakes his head, “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on between you two. But the last time I saw Nat even close to this upset was when Fury faked his death and didn’t tell her.”  
“Wait, he did what?”  
“What do you do in the compound all day? Don’t you read old case files?”  
“Just get on with what you were saying, Sam.”  
“You and Nat are in some kind of fight or disagreement, I don’t know. But she is really torn up about this. I am worried about her going on any missions in this state.”  
“Does she have any missions coming up?” I try to ask casually, but my voice comes out an octave too high.  
“How are you doing?” he asks carefully. “I know we aren’t that close,” I am out of breath. Forty-five minutes into a hike. I try to remember what Cap said, about accepting that I won’t be back to 100% overnight.  
“I’m fine,” We make it back to the house. “Thank you for the hike.” I rush upstairs to shower. Hot water streams down my back and I close my eyes. For a moment, I am back in the yellow house. I am getting ready for school. Nat is pouring cereal and Pietro is about to yell at me for using up all the hot water. I towel off and change into fresh clothes.  
“Hey, Nat is taking off in a few hours. You can either head out with her tonight or me tomorrow, up to you,” Cap drums his hands on the door jam. I nod and begin to pack my bag. After saying my goodbyes, I wait at the quinjet for Natasha to arrive.  
“Why aren’t you staying?” I look up from my phone. Natasha is unlocking the plane.  
“I want to go home,” I ask to fly back. Natasha accepts the offer is climbs into the copilot’s seat. When we land, she barely gives me a glance before heading into her bedroom. I wriggle into my unmade bed, wrapping myself in the sheets like a cocoon.

* * *

Sunday morning, I step into the kitchen, our mini vacation over. Next to my cup of coffee is a note, “Gym 8:30.” I head in early and see Natasha whaling on a punching bag. She pulls back and wipes her forehead of sweat.  
“You ready to train?” She asks, stretching her arms over her head. “Cap said you’ve been doing well.” She doesn’t meet my eyes, but she’s training me again. I will take what I can get. We begin to spar. Even in my weakened state, she is going too easy on me.  
“Stop,” I step away from the mat, “What are you doing?”  
“Trying to train you,” she takes a sip of her water.  
“This isn’t training. You are going easy on me, way easier than necessary. Why?”  
“I don’t want you to think I’m taking out any anger I have on you.” She answers honestly, rewrapping her hands.  
“I would never think that,” I frown, “and I’ll never get better if you treat me with kid gloves.”  
“Fine. Let’s go,” she drops into a fighting stance and rather than just dodging me, she begins to hit back. I last forty-five minutes. “Good job.” She offers me her hand and pulls me off the floor. Our phones ping with a text from Cap. He is off to the Philippines with Sam for a mission. I go to ask Natasha what she wants to do while they are gone, but I realize she is too.  
That was our only training session for the week. I quickly go back to living with a ghost. An extremely helpful and caring ghost.  
“Wanda,” Natasha’s voice rings out. “I am running to the mall; do you want anything?” Natasha’s voice rings out from the kitchen. I skid out from my room, my fuzzy socks sliding against the floor.  
“Can I come?” I ask, breathless with excitement. It has been six days since I left the compound.  
“Of course,” she tries to sound nonchalant, but I can hear the apprehension in her voice.  
“Actually,” I force myself to sound upbeat, “You know what? Never mind, I think I’m going to take a nap.”  
“No. Now you have to come. I’ll feel bad if you don’t.” She huffs, pulling on her coat. I follow Nat to the garage and see her smile to herself as she grabs the keys to Tony’s Ferrari instead of her Porsche.  
I forget how long the drive is to the mall, nearly an hour. Natasha plays music, a rare occurrence. I think she wants to fill the silence. She parks outside of Nordstrom’s and we head directly to the show section.  
“What’s wrong? You can get something too if you’d like,” She looks up from trying on red heels.   
“Are those for a mission?”  
“Yes, they are. I can’t exactly wear my red bottoms,” I can hear her daring me to challenger her. I look down at my phone. Not that anyone ever texts me. Sam sent a meme to the group message a few days ago about Steve’s ass. That was my last text. “At least pick out some new boots for yourself,” I reluctantly begin to browse. A pair of Jimmy Choo combat boots catch my eye.  
“Those are perfect, get them.” I nearly jump out of my skin; she was so quiet. “You’re a six and a half, right?” Her voice is tight, a forced happiness. She looks over to the sales associate who runs off.  
“You must single handedly keep this store in business.” She doesn’t answer and walks over to the register to pay. “Are you hungry?” the strained smile is back. I think of what she said at the gala: _Every time I look at you, I see the expression on your face after you went into my head_.  
“No, I’m fine, we can head home.” Her shoulders visibly relax. It crushes me. We put our new shoes in the trunk and begin the drive home. I watch in fascination as she gets off the highway and turns left. Then right. Then two more lefts.  
“Nat, where are we going?”  
“I am going to tell you something, and you cannot turn around.” I begin to look over my shoulder, “Did you not hear what I just said?” she snaps, “Do not turn around. We have two cars that have been following us since we left the mall. A black SUV and a sedan. It is safe to assume they here to either kidnap you or kill me.” Her voice is calm, like she is discussing the weather.  
“What are we going to do?”  
“ _We_ are not going to anything. You are going to wait in the car. You haven’t fully recovered,”  
“But,”  
“Stay in the car.” The street comes to a dead end with no where to turn. She slides on her gloves and takes a deep breath, getting out of the car. Gun shots start going off.  
Like I would stay in the car. I send a blast at one of the men as he aims his gun at Nat, I miscalculated my strength and it goes straight through him, destroying the SUV.  
“I told you to stay in the car!” Natasha yells as she shoots her gun. One of the men throw a grenade. They are here to kill, meaning they’re here for Nat, not me. The weapon rolls under Ton’s Ferrari. My eyes land on Natasha ten feet away. I quickly put up a force field around us as the car explodes, shrapnel nearly penetrating.  
“Guess it’s a good thing I got out of the car.” She shoots me a dirty look and begins firing her gun again. She runs by and grabs me by the hood of my parka, pulling me behind a snowbank. “  
Stay here. Stay out of the way. Don’t get hurt.” My line of sight is blocked by a seemingly endless wall of white. It feels as though the shots go off for an eternity, until finally, there is silence. I stick my head out cautiously, and see Nat standing over two of the six bodies. She nods to the body and I look closer. The symbol for hydra is tattooed on his neck.  
“I think our new shoes are ruined,” I look at what remains of Tony’s car, smoldering.  
“We don’t have cell reception.” The third car, the sedan, is leaking gasoline all over the road. We have no other options besides walking. I follow Nat ash she leads with a clear destination in mind, despite the fact that we are going through the woods. Her hand rests on her gun, ready to fire again at a moment’s notice. I look down at the snow where she has stepped. It’s littered with red spots. I begin to speak up when a small cabin comes into view. It has clearly been abandoned, the wooden window boxes appear to be rotting and the screen door flaps in the wind.  
“I saw it from the highway, we can rest here,” Her words are slurred. She leans against the door, trying to push it open. I get a better angle and see that her hand is not resting on her gun, but her stomach. The green coat has darkened with blood and it seeps through her fingers. She gives it a hard shove and the wood splinters, sending her into the cabin. She doesn’t get off the ground.  
“Natasha?” I rush forward and turn her over. Her eyes are glassy. I unzip her coat and see a gunshot wound, blood pouring out of it like a spigot.  
“I have lost a lot of blood,” she blinks trying to focus. “I am going to lose consciousness is about two minutes.”  
“Nat,”  
“I will be unable to operate on myself. You will have to do it.”  
“I don’t know how,” I panic. First aid is definitely a top we should have covered.  
“I know how,” she takes a breath, her chest shuttering and she closes her eyes, “You have my permission. Just watch how to do it,”  
“Nat,”  
“Wanda, I have thirty seconds of consciousness left, it is now or never, Little Witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cliff hanger!! Will Wanda do it? Stay tuned to find out! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always any feedback is appreciated! This chapter is a bit of a filler leading up to action, sorry! It was getting too long so I cut it in two! And again, thank you all for so many kind comments on the last chapter, I really enjoyed writing that one, even if one of the scenes tore my heart out. -Carly


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Chapter 12 on the 12th! Please enjoy! As always, feedback and requests are welcome!

I reach out and close my eyes. Instantly, I see Natasha standing over Clint who is on a ratty motel bed. They are younger, this appears to be one of their first missions.  
“Are you sure you want to do this?”  
“Well, considering the only other option is that you die since we can’t go to a hospital without them finding us,” She pulls out a pain of tweezers and reaches into his leg, pulling out a bullet.  
“How are you so calm?” Clint’s face turns green.  
“You Americans have such soft stomachs, I performed this on myself when I was ten,” she scoffs. Yes, definitely an early mission. Natasha would never be so condescending now. She takes a bottle of vodka and pours it over the wound. “Sorry, this is all I could find in the hotel.” She holds up the sewing kit.  
“Can’t you cauterize it or something?”  
“No, that would lock the infection in, we don’t want you to lose your leg, trust me I know what I am doing.” She begins to work on sewing the wound shut. “Now, this part is important,”   
The memory breaks. I am back in the cabin and Natasha has lost consciousness. I push down the nausea I always feel after going into someone’s head and begin to look around the cabin for anything that I can use to perform this operation. I find a fishing kit with a hook, and a spool of black thread in a dresser drawer. Thankfully, underneath the bathroom sink is a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. It expired in 2013. I don’t think I have luxury of expiration dates right now. There are no tweezers anywhere. I think of using my powers but quickly nix the idea, I could lose control and send the bullet deeper or hit an organ. I look down at my hands. The bullet went in straight. I can catch a glimpse of it. It is starting to get dark. I have to do this now.  
I pour the hydrogen peroxide over my hand and the wound After taking a deep breath, I reach into the bullet wound with my thumb and forefinger. I think I’m going to be sick. Blood squelches around the wound and her flesh is slippery around my fingers. I feel the metal brush up against my fingertips and pull it out. I quickly cover the injury with rags I found, trying to apply pressure and stop her from losing any more blood.  
“Okay Wanda, you just have to sew the wound shut, and you’re talking to yourself. This is great. Everything is going really well. You are sixteen and performing surgery. Your favorite person is dying, and her last act was to trust you to save her life. No pressure.” I feel a nervous laugh starting to bubble up in my throat, I am talking to myself, this is insane. I thread the string into the fishhook after sterilizing it and pull rags away. Blood begins to flow again. I move quickly and try not to think about how I am sewing skin together. I tie it off and begin to panic. There was an important step after. And I never got to hear it. What would make sense? I rack my brain for an answer and see a bit of blood coming through the stitches. I think of my shoulder wound. Apply gauze and change frequently to prevent infection. We have no gauze. I run into the bedroom and tear the sheets into strips, then gently lift Nat, wrapping the fabric around her midsection to secure it in place.  
Finally, I can breathe. I did it. I closed the gunshot wound. I stopped the bleeding. I notice for the first time how cold it is. I had been using the front door as my operating table, and snow was beginning to drift into the cabin. Even if Nat doesn’t die from blood loss, we could both succumb to hypothermia. I go to pick her up and she groans, a good sign. I’m not strong enough to carry her to the bedroom without injuring her more. I think I am going to cry. I can’t though. If I fall apart, she dies. She can’t die. I grab the throw off the couch and gently slide her onto it. Slowly and carefully, I pull the blanket into the bedroom and put her onto the mattress, which is thankfully on the floor. Back in the front room, I prop the door back up, hoping to protect us from the cold at least a little. There is nothing in the cabin to start a fire with. The only box of matches was wet from the snow. My hands begin to go numb after rubbing two sticks together for an hour. In the bedroom Nat is shivering in her sleep, despite that she is covered in four blankets and both of our coats. I crawl into bed next to her, hoping to provide enough warmth for the both of us, and fall asleep.  
I open my eyes and realize immediately that something is not right, I am in Natasha’s dream. I spot her, sitting in a cell. Her long hair is tangled, and she is wearing the same outfit that she was when Clint first found her. This isn’t just a dream, but a memory. I try to pull out, but I am trapped. She is resting her head on the wall of the glass room. A bandage now covers her leg where she was shot.  
“Agent Barton, you cannot bring home a KGB assassin like she is a lost puppy!” Fury, I would recognize the voice anywhere. Nat opens her eyes with mild interest.  
“She is only a kid; did you look at her?”  
“She is also one of the most wanted criminals in the world.”  
“It isn’t her fault.” He argues, “Do you blame the gun or the person using it?”  
“How about both, Barton?” I cringe. Referring to Natasha as a weapon must hurt her, but her face remains completely impassive.  
“She asked me to kill her, sir. I couldn’t. I am sure she can be a valuable asset to SHIELD.”  
“You have been here for two years, Agent. That’s not very long.”  
“Considering the mortality rate of this job, I think that is a very long time.”  
“She’s your responsibility.”  
“I can handle it,”  
“Really? Because it seems even the KGB couldn’t handle her.” Fury storms out of the room and Clint walks over to Nat, unlocking the door to her cell. He holds it opens and she looks at him suspiciously.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Letting you out, I got the okay,”  
“You’re boss didn’t sound okay with this.”  
“I didn’t lose my job and you’re not dead. With Fury, that means he’s okay with it.” I see her mentally cataloging what he’s saying. “What do you normally do between missions?”  
“Train,” she replies with certainty.  
“What about when you aren’t training?” he tries, “For free time?”  
“Leisure activities?” she clarifies, stepping out of the cell. Clint nods. “I have been given identities that have hobbies, but personally I have never had one.”  
“You have never done anything for fun, in your entire life?” I think of my conversation with Vision on New Years Eve, they are nearly identical.  
“No. It is a waste of time.” She crosses her arms but look nervously at Clint. She is afraid of upsetting him. “Are you to be my new handler?”  
“What? No.” he laughs, “We’re going to be partners.”  
“Partners?” She screws up her nose. “I work alone.”  
“Okay Batman,” Clint shoves her lightly and she tenses up, ready for a fight. When she sees his jovial face, she relaxes and shoves back.  
I wake up and find Natasha still asleep, she has a small smile on her face. I relax knowing she is not trapped in a nightmare. I change the dressings on her wound and begin to look again for something to start a fire with. When I come back in to check on her, her smile is gone, and her forehead slicked with sweat. She is running a fever.  
“You don’t get to die,” I command as I strip off blankets, trying to cool her down.  
“I am pretty sure I am in charge as the adult” she murmurs sleepily.  
“Oh my God, you’re awake,” I jump up, “Can I get you anything? Water?  
I think of the cup of half melted snow I collected just in case.  
“I’m good for now,” she closes her eyes, “How long have we been here?” I look down at my phone, its about to die.  
“About twelve hours, maybe a little longer.” She hums in acknowledgement but keeps her eyes closed.  
“You got the bullet out?”  
“Yes,”  
“Good job,” her praise is sincere. “We have to get going, we can’t stay here.” She opens her eyes and gets out of bed, immediately swaying. I offer my arm and she grabs onto it reluctantly. Her eyes are closed again, and she is taking deep breaths. I am killing her. No matter what I do. “Thank you, I really appreciate what you’re doing.” Her words are stilted, like a computer is speaking. She opens her eyes again and sets her mouth in a hard line of determination. She stands up straight and begins to walk out of the cabin, only staggering slightly. As we walk through the woods, I notice our previous trail had been covered by fresh snow. There is no sign of the way we came. However, Natasha quickly discovers a service road and we walk along it, hoping to find a person to help, or at the very least a way out. There is a flash of red metal up ahead.  
“A car,” I sigh in relief. I go to run towards it, and Natasha pulls me back with a glare.  
“What?”  
“We just got attacked and now you want to run at a strange car in the woods and hope it’s occupants are friendly.” A blush rises up on my cheeks in embarrassment. She sits me down on a fallen tree and slinks up ahead. Nat is on death’s doorstep and yet still puts herself in harms way. “Wanda,” she calls. I run up and she puts her arm out to stop me from getting any closer. Natasha's face is pale, her muscles tensed. Her eyes are glassy, but she blinks, trying to stay focused. A man lies on the ground, his body partially burned. The rest of him is frozen, his eyes closed. He didn’t die from being electrocuted; he froze to death after. There is a down powerline. I can feel the electricity he felt surging through his body. The feeling of your muscles tightening and your jaw locking in place. The feeling of every nerve in your body being awakened and set on fire. “No one is going to hurt you, your okay.” Natasha soothes, rubbing my back, overcoming her own discomfort. “Wanda, you have to move the wires.”  
“That guy just died from touching them.” I gasp.  
“With your powers. He has the car keys in his pocket, they aren’t in the truck.” I look at the wire on his body. With a quick swish of my hand, it flies off the corpse. She fishes into his pocket and removes his keys and wallet.  
“Please tell me you aren’t robbing a dead guy.”  
“We need his name to let his family know.” She says quietly, taking out his license and tossing me the wallet. Inside is a picture of him with his wife and a little boy. Nat lurches over to the truck, I had almost forgotten that she has been injured. We climb into the car and blast the heat, finally beginning to get warm after fourteen hours. A laugh escapes me. I can’t help it. Soon I am having a fit. Natasha looks over and starts laughing too, gripping her side.  
“Stop, you are going to pull your stitches,” I gasp between bursts, but I am laughing again. “Our lives are so ridiculous. We just wanted a pair of shoes and now we are stealing a dead man’s truck after doing surgery with a fishhook.”  
“It is absolutely absurd,” she plugs her phone into the car charger, and it comes to life, “I am also fairly certain we are in the initial stage of hypothermia,” The phone starts to ting. We have service. Natasha puts in the GPS coordinate for the compound and shifts the car into gear.  
“Should you be driving?”  
“No, but you don’t know how to drive, especially not how to drive a stick.” She focuses on the uneven terrain. Every bump is met with a wince of pain and I see fresh blood begin to soak through her shirt.  
“I think we should call for help.” On cue, her phone starts to ring. I use my powers to have it fly into my hand.  
“Wanda, don’t,”  
“Cap?” I ask, breathless.  
“Wanda? Thank God. Where are you guys? What happened? We have been so worried.”  
“We were attacked. Nat got shot. I performed surgery. Then we got lost and the woods stole a dead guy’s car.”  
“Are you laughing?”  
“I think I am a little hysterical, I have only slept an hour.”  
“Where are you?”  
“Natasha is driving us home,” I look over at Nat, adrenaline is clearly draining, her eyes are glassy. Her hand slips off the wheel and her face blank. I reach for the wheel, trying to jerk us back onto the road but I’m not fast enough.  
“Wanda? Wanda!” I fumble for the phone which has ended up on the ground.  
“Steve?” I look over at Natasha who is unconscious. “I think we need help. Natasha is unconscious,” I reach up and touch my hairline, it is wet. “I think I hit my head.”  
“I’m on my way, okay? Can you stay on the phone?” I nod my head. “Wanda?”   
“Yes, I can do that,” I murmur, fighting to keep my eyes away. I look over at Nat, her stitches as burst. I open up the glove box and search for something to staunch the bleeding. My own blood is dripping in my eyes. There is an old rag. Better than nothing. “Are you still there?”  
“Yes, trying to stop the bleeding,” I explain, my thoughts clouding.  
“Who’s bleeding?”  
“Steve? Is that you? We got in a car accident,” I explain, “We hit a tree, Nat’s bleeding.”  
“I know, just stay on the phone with me, we’ll be there soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! As you can tell, our girls are not out of the woods yet (literally). I probably won't get a chance to post another for this part of the series until Monday as I have an insanely busy few days ahead. Any requests or feedback will be ready and appreciated though! Thank you all for following along! (A new chapter of part 3 of the series is queued up and should be posted tomorrow)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sorry for the wait between posts- doubly sorry for how short this chapter is! I was super busy last week and then went on a trip to visit my family! Please enjoy!

“Thank God, you stopped talking on the phone,” I look out the passenger side window, dazed. Steve yanks open the door, wrapping it off it’s hinges. I think it was unlocked. 

“How did you know we were in a car accident?” I hold my head, blood is dripping down my face. “I think I’m hurt,”

“You called us Wanda,”

“I did?” I look down at the phone in my hand. “I think I have a concussion,” I look over to see that Nat is already gone, a blood stain in her place. 

“Tony’s got her, I’ve got you, okay?” I step out of the car and am surprised by how steady I am. However, I quickly turn to the side and throw up, nausea overcoming me. 

“I don’t remember calling you,” I lean up against the truck, the cool metal against my cheek.

“Do you have any other injuring besides the concussion?”

“I don’t think so, Natasha kept me away from the fight. I tried to help,” I stand up from the truck. “Where is Nat? Steve, where’s Nat?” 

“Tony brought her to the jet, there’s a doctor on board. Come on, we need to get you checked out.” We reach a field where the quinjet is waiting. I sit down on one of the medical cots while the doctor tends to Natasha, he’s started a blood transfusion and is examining her wound. He’s in jeans and a T-shirt, it must be his day off. I think I’m going to be sick. I stand up and run over to a bin, vomiting. 

“Miss Maximoff, please stay awake until a doctor has the chance to examine you at the compound,” I give a thumbs up as I continue to retch, only stomach acid coming up. I watch as he quickly irrigates the wound and begins further cleaning. 

The ride to the compound takes no more than ten minutes. I sit next to Natasha’s bed as the doctor examines me. He had quickly stopped the bleeding and both of us are on an IV for fluids. 

“No screens for a few days, but you’ll be okay,” he finishes taping my wound shut. 

“Aren’t you going to call in Dr. Cho for Natasha?” I ask, my eyes flitting to her still form. 

“I can handle a gunshot wound, especially when most of the work was already done for me,” he stands up from his stool, “She should be waking up soon, you saved her life. She will be very proud.” 

I am alone with her. Steve and Tony must be waiting down the hall. Is this serious enough to call Clint? Her eyelids flutter. 

“Natasha,” I sigh in relief. 

“Hey kid,” She smiles weakly at me and goes to sit up. A sharp breath indicates that wouldn’t be happening. “I didn’t get us out of the woods, did I?” Her eyes land on my forehead. “Did I do that?” Her face pales and she manages to sit up, ignoring the pain. “Wanda, I’m so sorry. I must have been,” She looks near tears.

“What? You didn’t attack me,” I laugh nervously. “You lost control of the truck, and passed out from blood loss. I think I hit my head on the dashboard. The airbags didn’t go off.”

“Are you okay?” She lifts up my hair, looking at the butterfly bandages.

“Fine, just a concussion.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’ve been better, but you saved my life.” She drops her hand back to her side.

“Only thanks to you, if you hadn’t shown me,” 

“Wanda, just take the compliment.” I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about letting me in her head, I don’t blame her. 

“Thank you,” A small smile escapes. “I’m really happy you’re alive.” She pulls down the sheets and lifts up the gauze on her stomach. 

“I can’t believe I let a flesh wound get the better of me,” She scoffs, reapplying the gauze. “Next week, I am giving you a first aid class.” 

“You’re training me again?” I feel my heart lift out of my chest. 

“Yes, I have been neglecting you, and I’m sorry.” No, this is not what I wanted. I don’t want _her_ to feel bad. “I let my feelings get in the way of an assignment,” 

“I’m only an assignment?” My throat tightens, her words cutting deep, “That’s all I am?” I try not to be too hurt. She had been performing her assignment and she is nothing if not a good agent. 

“That is not how I meant it,” she snaps, “You know what I meant,” I flinch against her harsh words. I can see the wheels turning in her head. “I care for you, Wanda,” she tries, “and it got in the way of our training. It was unprofessional and I’m sorry.” She runs her fingers through her hair, “Fuck. I’m really bad at this. Clint normally just let’s it go,” she tries to joke, “I am grateful to have you in my life even if it makes me bad at my job,” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Let’s not talk about it, okay? I am really not very good at all this emotional,” she waves her hand in the air as substitute for a word. 

“That is a really unhealthy way to deal with problems,” I look over to the doorway and see Sam. “Hey Wanda, you mind if I have some alone time with Nat?” I give him a right nod and leave the room. Steve and Tony are in the hall, deep in discussion. Tony frowns when he sees me. 

“You stole my Ferrari and blew it up,”

“Actually, Nat stole it and the bad guys blew it up,”

“There were only six of that car ever made,” 

“Now there are five,” I sit down on the floor. They join me. 

“You did really well, Wanda. You kept you and Natasha alive.” Steve compliments 

“Barely,” 

“Barely is still alive,” 

“Hey Tony, Nat wants to talk to you,” Sam leaves her room, holding open the door. “I think it’s about your car.” 

“Don’t you have an appointment in the medical wing?” I look up and see Natasha in the doorway, arms crossed. 

“I’m finishing up this Latin translation, I think I’ve almost got this one mastered.” 

“Really? So if we go to the Vatican, you’ll understand everything?” She flashes a cocky smile. My heart feels full. In the past five days, Natasha has almost completely healed. My head has a jagged scab running across my hairline. Our relationship seems to be repairing itself just as quickly. Every once and a while, her veil slips and I see her struggle to be around me. I do my best to ignore these moments as they are few and far between. She had relaxed significantly following her conversation with Sam. Something he said resonated with her. We even ate dinner together last night. 

I follow her down the hall and towards the medical wing. 

“I’m thinking field trip this week, maybe to UN Headquarters in the city?” We sit down in the examination room. The paper on the table crinkles when I sit down. The door opens and I feel my vision tunnel. The walls feel like they are closing in. The doctor’s white lab coat shines like a beacon. I can feel the cold stainless steel up again my back. My arms pinned to my side. The pulsing of electricity through my body. 

“Wanda!” Someone is squeezing my hand so tight I think it might break. I look over and see Natasha. Everything is glowing red. “He’s gone, okay? You’re safe,” I let out a ragged breath and everything sinks to the ground. “What happened,”

“The lab coat, it brought me right back,” I hug my arms into myself. “There’s something I never told you, about Brazil.” 

“What?” Her voice gets low and I can see the thought that has entered her mind.

“No, not that, they didn’t do that.” She relaxes just a little. 

“When you came to rescue me, the doctor running the operation had just left. He wasn’t there when you came,”

“The man who I found you with,”

“He was second in command,” I squeak.

“So the man who tortured you is still out there?” I nod mutely, considering my fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the short chapter, I’ve been crazy busy and also working on Lost quite a bit. I’ve been waiting to post this bit about the doctor, he just slipped away! Thank you all for following along! A new (longer) chapter will be up in a few days!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for attempted underage non-con  
> Erring on the side of caution and adding a trigger warning for graphic descriptions of violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting, I wanted to make sure I got this chapter right! If you like this fic you should check out parts 2 & 3 of the series! Thank you all for following along! As always, any feedback is welcome and appreciated!  
> Sorry for any formatting issues, typed this up on my phone!

_“She wouldn’t know,”_

_“No, it could interfere with our results.”_

_“She hasn’t reacted to anything we’ve said or done in days, I doubt she’d notice this. You already fucked her up, boss, what’s a little fun going to do?” I feel a hand stroke my inner thigh and move upwards. No. No. No. “She’s so delicate, and pretty, like a little doll.”_

_“Do you want to end up like Becker? Stop this foolishness. We are scientists, no unwanted variables. She is not a delicate little doll, Huber. If it weren’t for this collar, she could snap your neck without a second thought.” I feel the hand linger a moments longer, the pressure increasing, but it pulls away._

“Wanda,” someone is shaking me. “Wanda!” I hear a thump and open my eyes. Natasha is pulling herself off the ground. 

“Oh, no, Nat, I’m so sorry,” I run over to help her. 

“It’s fine, you were having a nightmare.” 

“I am remembering more, about being there.” I twist the rings on my fingers, I had fallen asleep with them on last night, “one of the men, the one killed by his teammates, his last name was Becker. The second in command, his name was Huber. It might help Tony find the Doctor.” 

“Wanda, do you promise nothing happened that I should know about?”

“They didn’t, one of them tried, but no. It didn’t happen.” 

“If you want to talk to someone,”

“Natasha, can we just drop it? Please?” I change into fresh clothes, “I’m going to go let Tony know what I remembered, I’ll see you later for combat training.” 

* * *

Weeks pass with no new developments. No updates on his possible location. The last names only tell us he is probably German. Cap explains that it makes sense, towards the end of the war, a lot of Nazis fled to South America. I feel a kick in my stomach, Bringing me back to the present. 

“Wanda, you are favoring your right side,” I feel a blow to my left from Sam. 

“Sorry,” I nod in response and return the hit. He blocks it easily. 

“I don’t know where you are, but you’re most definitely not on this mat.” 

“I’m trying!” I turn to face her and get hit in the ribs. “Fuck Sam!” I grip my sides. 

“Wanda, if this were a battle Sam would have killed you three times by now,”

“If this was a battle I’d be using my powers,” I point out, lifting up my shirt to look at my side. Red marks are already forming. 

“I have to head home to DC, sorry again Wanda,” he smiles sympathetically and jogs out of the room. 

“Why are you distracted?”

“I’m not!” I stomp my foot in frustration.

“You’re acting like a child,”

“I am a child!” I bite back. “Why are you being so mean?”

“I’m not, I need to know you can handle yourself in battle,” 

“You’ve seen me in battle! I can hold my own just fine.” 

“Why do you feel in incessant need to argue with me about everything?” 

“I’m not,” I sigh, frustrated. 

“Then talk to me,”

“It’s been weeks and we still haven’t found him.” 

“Tony is working on it, he is running everything you gave us. There is nothing we can do but wait.” She says gently. “What if we went on a trip? Maybe tour some colleges?”

“College?” I repeat, making sure I heard her correctly. 

“Isn’t this the age when kids tour schools? Sixteen?”

“I’m not in high school, Tony made it clear that he thinks it’s not a good idea.” 

“We will leave tomorrow.” I stand alone in the gym, bewildered.

Apparently in Boston, like upstate, spring is nonexistent. I shiver next to Nat as we wait for our taxi. The late April sun shines down but the snowbanks surrounding us are undeterred. The taxi pulls up and drives us to the Four Seasons, across from Boston Common, the city’s version of Central Park. 

“Why are we here?” I ask looking around the hotel minibar for M&Ms. 

“Don’t you want to go to college?”

“I never thought about it,” 

“Well now you can.”

“But why are we here now? We could have looked at these schools online. Or waited until it was warm.”

“I thought you could use some normal, things have been tough lately.” She straightens her jacket. “Come on, let’s go be tourists.” 

We go into the shopping district and Natasha goes in and out of stores at a breathtaking pace. Hermès, Chanel, and Burberry weren’t ready, neither was I.

“Nat, can we slow down, please?” I sit down on the front steps of a store. The cold stone goes straight through my jeans. “What is up? Why are you acting so much more intense than normal?” Ever since we got off the plane, she has had a fervent look in her eyes. 

“Let’s get dinner,” We sit in the corner of the Met restaurant. She is pretending to look at the menu. Her muscles are tight, ready to run at a moment’s notice. 

“What are you going to have?”

“What?” 

“We’re at a restaurant, what are you going to have to eat?” I explain slowly. She isn’t paying attention. She is running scenarios through her mind. I see her noting places someone could attack, locations of exits. Her eyes sweep the room. 

“So, Tony found him, huh?” Natasha’s daze swivels back to me. 

“What?”

“Since you turned your phone back on when the plane landed you’ve been on edge.” The waitress comes over and a quick glance from Natasha sends her away. “You should have told me.” 

“I wanted you to have this. To have a college tour weekend. A normal weekend,” She keeps a careful eye on the staircase. “I didn’t want to worry you.” 

“Where is he?”

“Mexico,” 

“So let’s go get him. Why are we here pretending to be normal people when we should be killing that guy?”

“Wanda, you will not be going on the mission.”

“Excuse me?” I feel my eyes glowing red. “Why not?”

“Because he already hurt you once, we can’t let it happen again.” 

“You don’t get to decide that,”

“Actually, I do. I’m second in command. I don’t even have to tell you where he is. That was a courtesy.” 

“You’re not being fair. If this person had taken you, you’d be running the mission to take him down.”

“And I’d nearly get killed in the process. Do not use my actions as a model for your own.”

“Did you really just use the whole ‘do as I say not as I do’ bit?” Natasha looks over to the waitress and orders us each a burger. 

“The rest of the team and I will be going to Mexico tomorrow. You will be staying with Maria. She‘ll come here and fly you back to the compound.”

“You’re giving me a babysitter?”

“Of course, if I didn’t you’d go to Mexico the instant we boarded the quinjet.” The burgers arrive. “It is for your own safety, Wanda. You’re just a kid, as you reminded me yesterday. You need to live long enough to be one. Go to college. Have roommates, throw parties.” She looks at me with so much compassion and caring, “I just want you to live, Wanda.” 

“Fine, I’ll stay home,” I pick at my French fries. 

“Good.” She nods, “Now what are you thinking for dessert?” 

I sit next to Maria on the couch at the compound. She looks as irritated as I feel. “Sorry you’re babysitting,”

“It’s fine, better than visiting my parents like I was supposed to this weekend.” Most of them have lives outside of saving the world. It’s only Vision, and I who don’t. Natasha has the Barton’s. Steve visits Peggy. 

“Do you see them often, your parents?”

“Monthly dinners.” I had never been alone with Maria before. The silence isn’t as comfortable as it is with Natasha. 

“How long have you been with SHIELD?” 

“I joined the same time as Clint, we were in the same class. I had just come out of the FBI.” She looks over at me, “Don’t you have a bedtime?”

“No, and it’s seven o’clock.” I cross my arms, thinking of the team. They’d be arriving in Mexico right now. There is an explosion outside. 

“Stay here,” Maria gets off the couch, gun drawn and heads down the hall. Everyone always wants me to stay behind. I cross my arms. The power goes out. The whirring of the ventilations system is gone and the room is pitch black. The sound of my own breathing suddenly seems deafening. I hear the buzz of electricity and catch the bug in my fist, destroying it before it can disarm me. He’s here, not in Mexico. Either he moved or Tony got bad intel. Either way, it doesn’t matter. My whole body pulses with power, ready to fight for my life. Where is Maria? 

“Fuck,” I curse as I feel something bite me. I turn and see the electronic bug burry itself under my skin. Convulsions wrack my body. The Doctor steps casually into the light and I wonder distantly how long he has been inside the compound, waiting for his opportunity. 

“Don’t worry, your friend is fine. Just stunned. She should come through in an hour. We’ll be long gone by then.” Another man appears and picks me up like I weigh nothing. This can’t be happening again. The Doctor steps forward and strokes my cheek,

“We don’t need to worry about your friends finding you, you won’t be alive that long I’m afraid.” My bones are vibrating, my hands cuffed. They throw me and the back of a white van while they head up front. I can’t see anything. We bump along the road and my head slams into the floor of the truck. My thoughts are muddled, but I know if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to die. A stronger volt of electricity goes through and I bite my lip almost clean through. That’s it. I crawl towards the walls, feeling for something sharp. I find what feels like a metal shelf. It’s dull but it will do. Another volt of electricity hits and I fall forward. But rather than pull away, I lean harder into the shelf, pushing the arm with the bug in further. I gasp as I feel my skin split open where the electronic is. Another bump in the road sends me flying to the other side of the car. With a deep breath, plunge my mouth into the open wound. I grab the bug with my teeth, pulling on it. My own blood fills my mouth. I feel it tear away from my flesh, taking some with it. It crushes between my teeth and I spit it out. My consciousness wavers, but I feel my powers begin to course through me once again. I rip off the handcuffs and stand up. Time to go. I blast open the back doors and the car skids. I roll out, grunting as the pavement scrapes against my arm. The car stops and I pick myself up off the ground, limping towards the car. I kill the muscle instantly, before he has the chance to fire his gun. I have never felt this much power running through my veins. It’s intoxicating. The scientist stares at me in fear.

“You’re afraid of me, and you should be,” he shakes, “You’re doubting that I am human, I question it as well,” I feel blood dripping from my mouth, my eyes burning red. “You tortured me, debased me. Made me into a mutated version of myself.” I smile. “I am more than what you all made me to be, but I’m also a monster.”

“There are more of us, we will never stop coming,” 

“Yes, but you won’t be one of them,” With a twitch of my fingers, I snap his neck and watch the life leave his eyes. I survey the carnage. My powers are blazing so brightly, it seems impossible that it is night. I exude energy and strength. Every inch of me glows. I am the Scarlet Witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanda finally coming into her own and recognizing her power! Our little witch! I know this chapter had a lot going on but I needed to move the story to a different place, I was getting antsy 😂 Thank you all for following along, I can’t wait for you to read the next chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15! Thank you all for your kind words on the last chapter, had me grinning from ear to ear! I am so glad you enjoyed it! I hope you like this chapter just as much! As always, an comments, feedback, or requests are welcome and appreciated! Happy Saturday everyone :)

The light has faded completely from the Doctor’s eyes. It occurs to me that I never learned his name. My powers begin to dim, and soon the only light remaining is from the flickering headlights of the van as the battery dies. I lean against the driver’s side door, taking in deep breaths. Each one puffs out in front of me like smoke. I take inventory of my injuries. My arm is bleeding heavily, so is my lip. I take off the muscle’s t-shirt and tie it around my arm, hoping to staunch the flow of blood. My sweatpants are shredded, pants is a loose term for them now. The adrenaline is fading with the night and I am beginning to feel the injuries. I look down at my leg and am surprised to see road burn, I can’t feel it yet. My arm is burned as well, I had used it to shield my face as I rolled out of the car. How long had we been in the car? How fast was the car moving? It’s like one of the questions from Clint’s math tests. It definitely wasn’t more the five or six hours. I can’t stay here, I need to get out of this place, find some water. I hitch forward and lean against a tree, closing my eyes. I can’t stop moving. There is a sign up ahead. With any luck, I can get some kind of indication of where I am. My vision swims, and I get closer to read it, it takes a moment for it to come into focus. _Rothrock State Forest, speed limit 25_. Great load of good that does me. The sun is starting to peak over the horizon. I should head towards it, east. If anything, I’ll reach the ocean.  
The sun has just barely finished rising when a car finally drives by. I duck behind a tree and it scrapes against my burns. I hiss in pain and force myself to watch the car. Pennsylvania plates. I’m only one state over. I’m not far from home. I can make it back. I look down at my feet. I wish I was wearing something better than slippers.  
Finally, as the sun nears midday, I come across a house. The garage door is open. Children’s bikes lay scattered in the driveway. There is a playset peaking over the fence. A tire swing hangs from a tree in the front yard. I can hear Natasha telling me not to rest here, to get to a motel. I spot an old fridge. There is probably water in there. I can stop for water. I need water. I pull open the door, leaning heavily on it and sigh in relief when I see the Poland Spring’s logo peaking out from behind a case of beer. I pull off the t-shirt I was using as a bandage. It is so saturated with blood that it could be wrung out. I take the water bottle and pour half of it onto the wound. Clearing away the blood, I’m able to get a better look. There are rocks embedded in it. I can imagine the infection that must be growing. The other injuries will have to wait. The water stings the bite on my lip as I try to take a sip. I push down my horror when I feel some of it leak through and down my chin. I’m so tired. I think of the bags of soil I saw when I first came into the garage. I could take a nap. No. I can’t. I have to keep moving. I shut the fridge door and turn around. A shotgun is trained on my head, not more than a foot away. I am going to die, I can’t die. I have to get home to the team. I feel my powers begin to pulse through my body once more.  
“Mom, who is it? Do you know her?”  
“Kyle, I told you to stay in the house,”  
“Holy crap, her eyes are glowing,” a little girl’s voice rings out.  
“Lily,” the woman takes her eyes off me for a moment. I quickly disarm her, grabbing the gun and unloading it.  
“Are you an alien?” The little girl comes out from behind a wheelbarrow.  
“Don’t hurt them” the mother stands in front of her two children, fiercely staring me down. I try to imagine how I look to them right now. Covered in blood. Eyes glowing red. A threat to the safety of her children. I power down and hand her back the gun, keeping the bullets for my own peace of mind.  
“Can I please use your phone?” I lean against the wall.  
“What happened to you?” The woman clutches the gun tightly, seemingly unaware that there is no ammo. She is not a threat to me.  
“Please I need to let them know I’m okay.” I can’t cry. I am not safe yet. I won’t be safe until I am back on the compound. But even that wasn’t secure, the Doctor proved that.  
“You look familiar,” the little boy peaks out from behind his mother, “Are you on TV?”  
I look to the mom, “Please,” my voice cracks. The realization of what has happened hits me. Is Maria really alive? What happened in Mexico if the doctor is here? Is the team alive? Is Natasha? The mom hands me her cell phone with a shaking hand. I look at the time, nearly eleven. Has it really only been fifteen hours? It also seems impossible that so much time has passed.  
I realize I don’t know anyone’s phone numbers. I pull up Google. Whose phone number would be online? Only one. The number comes up and rings. I hold my breath. It rings again. Please answer. One more ring.  
“Harold Hogan, Stark Industries Head of Security,”  
“Happy?” I ask hopefully, exhaling.  
“Wanda? Whose phone are you calling from?”  
“I don’t know, I’m in Pennsylvania, I think.”  
“What do you mean? Why aren’t you on the compound?”  
“He was here, he wasn’t in Mexico.”  
“What happened?”  
“He attacked, got in by surprise. I don’t know if Maria is alive.”  
“Tony is on the other line; can I call you back on this number? Are you safe?”  
“I think so,” Happy hangs up and I stare at the phone, waiting for it to ring again.  
“Lily, Kyle, go grab the first aid kit,” The kids scurry off, happy to help.  
“I’m Carrie,” the woman introduces herself, examining my arm.  
“Wanda,”  
“Should I call the police?”  
“No,” I think of how much more complicated this will be if local law enforcement gets in involved, and the amount of paperwork Steve would need to fill out. Off the books is best. The kids return and Carrie sets to work on my arm, cleaning it with an antiseptic wipe before going in with a pair of tweezers, removing the pebbles and bits of concreted. She does her best to tape the wound shut, using five Ironman Band-Aids. I feel lightheaded. I think I need a blood transfusion.  
“Are those bite marks?” Kyle leans in as she puts on the last bandage. The phone rings.  
“Hello?”  
“Wanda? Wanda, where are you?”  
“Nat? Is everyone okay?”  
“We’re fine. Where the hell are you? Maria said the compound was breached.”  
“I’m in someone’s garage. Can you please come get me? I’m really tired.” I take off my slippers for the first time and see my feet are covered in blisters and blood.  
“Where are you?” I hand the phone over to Carrie. After a few moments, she casts me a wary glance and then leaves the garage, continuing to talk to Natasha. She brings her children with her.  
“You’re an Avenger!” The boy comes bursting into the garage. “Holy crap, that’s so cool,”  
“Kyle!” Carrie shoots me an apologetic smile, “Let’s get you in the house dear, give you some fresh clothes.” She looks down at my feet and I slide my slippers back on, ignoring the squelch of sinking my feet into blood-soaked shearling.  
I am pacing in the living room when there is a knock on the door. Carrie goes to open it, I run over, stopping her. The Doctor’s final words run through my mind. They will never stop coming. I can’t put this woman and her kids in any more danger than I already have.  
“Go hide with the kids somewhere with no windows. Don’t come out unless I say it’s okay,” Carrie looks at me doubtfully, but then back at the door. She grabs Lily and Kyle, pulling them through the kitchen and out of sight. There is another round of knocks, more frantic than before. I pull open the door, hands blazing, ready to fight.  
“Wanda?” I look at the front porch. Natasha stands at the door. The rest of the team is behind her. Besides Natasha, all their expressions are something bordering on fear. Tony’s hand is glowing, and Cap stands on the balls of his feet. Sam’s fingers dance on the handle of his gun. Natasha steps forward, “It’s okay Little Witch,” I look down at my hands and see they are still pulsing with red. She has her hands out in front of her, like she’s approaching a wounded animal. I look back at the team. She glances over at them and then back at me. “You’re okay, just look at me,” she steps closer. I let the power die out and my arms drop weakly to my side. Natasha pulls me in, “You’re okay, you’re okay,”  
Carrie serves coffee and tea while we wait for Tony and Sam to return with Vision, who is looking for the van. Natasha puts stitches in my lip and arm. I look at the blood bag hanging on the IV pole next to me, dripping into my arm. It’s my own blood, an autologous donation. I had it drawn just last week. I didn’t think I’d be needing it so soon.  
“So, you pulled the bug out with your teeth? Please tell me I am getting it wrong,”  
“I was inspired,” I gesture to my mouth.  
“That’s pretty badass, kid,” she smiles but doesn’t look up from sewing my arm shut.  
“Nat,” Steve groans, exasperated. She winks at me and finishes off the stitches. They are done with better precision than most surgeons.  
“I feel like a mummy,” Gauze covers my outer leg and arm on the left size. My feet have been wrapped as well. “What happened in Mexico?”  
“Wanda, you should rest,” her voice is soothing. I can’t fall asleep.  
“No, not until they confirm that the bodies are there.” On cue, the door opens and Tony strolls in.  
“Cap, we need your help with clean up.” I stand up from the couch and lurch towards the door. “Maximoff, is your name Cap?” he looks over at me.  
“I can help,” I insist.  
“You walked eleven miles, bleeding, in the dark. You have earned your keep.”  
“You found their bodies?”  
“Yes. Both men are where you left them.” Steve and Tony head out the front door.  
“Is there a place where Wanda can rest until we fly out?” Natasha asks Carrie. I shoot her a look. I can’t rest right now. Natasha helps me up the stairs, my feet barely touching the ground. We go into a bedroom and I lie down on the bed, my eyelids fluttering, fighting sleep.  
“I should be out there, helping them.” I suppress a yawn. “He said to be ready,”  
“Ready for what?”  
“More, always more, cut off one head, two grow in its place.”

Someone is stroking my head softly. I lean into it, letting out a sigh. No. The Doctor. The van. They’re going to keep coming. I jump up, pushing away.  
“You’re okay, Wanda. Everything is okay.” Natasha offers me her hand, “Come back to bed, you’re safe.” I look around. We are back on the compound, in my bedroom. Nat guides me back to the bed. I don’t even remember the flight home.  
“I need to write up a report,”  
“You need to rest,”  
“I need to see his body,” I murmur, lying back down.  
“After you sleep,” she rubs my back.  
“The team was scared of me,”  
“They were scared for you,”  
“No, I saw them, on the porch. They thought I would hurt them, that I could hurt them.” She is quiet for a moment.  
“They don’t think that,” She used to be a better liar.  
“Natasha,”  
“Hm?”  
“I’m scared,”  
“We are going to do everything we can to keep you safe,”  
“No,” my bottom lip trembles, the stitches stretching, “I killed him, I enjoyed it. It made me feel good, the power.” Her hand stills, “I’m scared.” I roll over to face her. “What if I broke something in me?”  
“Wanda, he tortured you, you should not feel bad about his death. The fact you feel guilty for not being remorseful shows who you are. Bad people don’t worry over not being good enough.” She lies down next to me, “Sleep, Little Witch. Life will look better in the morning,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And scene! Tying up this plot point and moving on! There are five months left in this part and I can't wait for you all to read what happens next! Wanda is definitely experiencing some inner conflict right now. She is totally confident in her powers, and so proud of them! But at the same time, they terrify the people around. Sound like anyone else on the team? ;) Thank you so much for following along! New chapter will be out either tomorrow or Monday!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a wonderful weekend! Thank you for so many kind words about the last chapter- I appreciated every one of them! Please enjoy chapter 16!

The morning light shines into my bedroom. Natasha is asleep next to me, still in her clothes from last night. She is fast asleep, looking amazingly peaceful. I crawl slowly out of the bed and step gingerly onto the floor. I can feel blisters pop with each step towards the bathroom. I make it to the medicine cabinet and dry swallow four Advil. The black string from the stitches tickles my chin. It becomes evident, as I look in the mirror, that it will most definitely leave a scar.  
“Hi,” my eyes drift away from my chin and up. Natasha’s face looks back at me in the mirror. Her eyes are brimming with concern. “How did you sleep? How are you feeling?”  
“Sore,” I admit, looking down at my feet.  
“Sit, I’ll change your bandages,” I do as she asks, sitting down on the closed toilet. She unwraps my feet first, followed by the road burns, and lastly my arm. Natasha works in silence, cleaning the injuries and applying fresh bandages. She slows at my arm, and I know she can feel the heat coming off of it. It is definitely becoming infected. She goes over to the medicine cabinet and returns with a topical antibiotic, slathering the wound before rebandaging it. “How are you feeling?”  
“I told you, sore,”  
“That’s not what I meant,” she undoes my messy braid, redoing it into a perfect French plait.  
“I am fine.”  
“Wanda, last night you were not fine,”  
“I am now.” She stares at me for a beat before giving up.  
“How about we go find something to eat?” I follow her to the kitchen. Tony, Steve, and Sam are deep in discussion. Vision stands off to the side, listening intently. It all pauses when they see us. The android is the only one who smiles.  
“Good morning, fellas, are we interrupting something?” Natasha glares at them, “Or were you just gossiping like a bunch of schoolgirls?”  
“Nope, all good here.” Tony takes a bite of an apple, “I’m going to go work in my lab. I will see you all later.”  
“Yeah, Steve and I have some work to do in the garage. Vision, we could use a hand.” Vision looks at the two of us, conflicted, before agreeing to join them.  
“Wanda,”  
“I can make us breakfast,” I offer, looking over at her, trying to get my mind off of the rest of the team. “Omelets, what do you think?”  
“I can help,”  
“No offense Nat, but you are kind of awful in the kitchen,” I pull out fresh herbs from the fridge and the cutting board. She hands me a cup of coffee.  
“I’m going to go talk to Cap, I’ll be right back, okay?” I nod. I stare at the herbs and chop quickly. The explosion. _Chop_. Car floor. _Chop_. Metal shelf. My arm slips, brushing the unchopped parsley to the ground. I curse under my breath and bend down to grab it. There is a crash. I rise quickly off the ground, my heart racing. I look up and see I have a knife floating inches away from Tony’s face. There is a dropped box of screws laying at his feet. The knife clatters to the ground.  
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Tony’s eyes harden. He sweeps up the box of screws with his hands and heads down the hall to his lab, not a word spoken. I push the remaining herbs into the trash and head to my bedroom.  
I sit in bed with my coffee, flipping through the channels. I pause on ABC Family, showing _Beauty and the Beast_. It had been years since I had seen it, maybe a decade. I feel a pang of nostalgia. It is the mob scene. For the first time, I truly hear the lyrics to the song.  
_We don't like what we don't understand in fact it scares us  
And this monster is mysterious at least   
Bring your guns bring your knives_  
I quickly scramble for the remote, turning off the TV. They won’t do that. I am not the Beast. I need to do something other than sit here.  
“Wanda, do you know how hard it was to find you? Since when do you come to the archives?” I don’t look up. “What are you reading?” she comes up from behind and snatches it out of my lap. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”  
“Those are the preliminary reports everyone gave at Clint’s,”  
“I know what they are,”  
“Yours isn’t in there,”  
“I didn’t give one,”  
“You mean you couldn’t, that’s not the same thing,” I turn to look at her, “I already read through the post mission report.” Her and Clint are the only ones who wanted me on the team. Everyone else advised against it. “No one wants me here,”  
“That’s not true, you’re a member of the team, Wanda.” She puts the file back, “Come on, get up. This is no place to hang out,”  
“You love it here,”  
“No, I spend a lot of time here, there’s a difference.” We reach my room, “Do you want company? Maybe we can play a board game,” I sit down on my bed.  
“What happened in Mexico?”  
“We don’t have to go through this right now,” I can hear her statement, she doesn’t want to. But I need to know.  
“You guys clearly had a mission still, it isn’t like you showed up and there was nothing to do, the Doctor isn’t the only man in Hydra,”  
“We ended up at this old nursing home, it had been shut down in 2012 for malpractice, according to our files. But it was running a high electricity bill and there were always cars coming in and out. We had been following a guy that matched your description for a few weeks. We weren’t sure it was him or not, until some satellite photos of the nursing home came through.” She pauses, “We backtracked his patterns for the last few months. He stayed in each place for forty-eight to seventy-two hours. No more, no less. Tony found all this information while we were on our flight to Boston. He had only just arrived in Mexico. We thought we had time, time to gather the team, come up with a plan.” She looks over at me, “I am so sorry, Wanda.”  
“That still doesn’t tell me what happened when you got there.”  
“It was a Hydra testing center, but there were no live subjects left. There was a mass grave in the back. We killed fifteen scientists. When discovered that he wasn’t there, we realized something was wrong. He wanted us to know he was there. He had been playing us for weeks.”  
“How many kids?”  
“Wanda, stop. You don’t need to worry about this, okay? Vision is heading out this afternoon to finish taking care of things down there. What matters right now is that you are home safe, okay? And know that I will never forgive myself for putting you in harm’s way again.”  
“I don’t blame you,” I lie down, “I think I’m going to take a nap,”  
“Of course,” she attempts a smile and the door clicks shut behind her.

I wake up floating two feet above my bed and come down with a crash. My belongings have moved around the room in my sleep, no doubt at my doing. I ignore the pain in my feet and go over to my desk, putting the globe upright and adding pins for Pennsylvania and Massachusetts. A thought occurs to me. I gesture with my hand and my pile of dirty clothes in the bathroom soar into my hamper. With a flick of the wrist, my shades go flying up. I can’t help it; I giggle with glee. Another small movement makes my bed. It is nice to use my powers for something other battle. I want to show Natasha.  
She isn’t in her bedroom, nor the firing range. I head towards the archives. As I near the area, I hear arguing echoing out of Steve’s office. I duck behind a file cabinet.  
“Natasha,”  
“Tony, I want you to consider your next words carefully,”  
“You aren’t considering the long term,”  
“Steve, you can’t be agreeing with this. Sam?”  
“Tony has a point, Nat. We just have to lay all the options on the table.”  
“This is not an option.”  
“Nat, you saw her when she opened that door. She could have killed any of us with a blink of an eye. She almost killed you,”  
“She did not almost kill me. I knew she wouldn’t. She was scared, she had just been kidnapped by someone who tortured her for weeks. Or did you forget that part?”  
“She is dangerous,”  
“Steve, you literally jeopardized my life and Sam’s for your brainwashed best friend. You don’t have the moral high ground here.”  
“Don’t bring Bucky into this,”  
“He is an actual threat that is still out in the world. He has killed way more people than Wanda. He tried to kill three of the people in this room multiple times,”  
“You know I am trying to find him and he had no control over his actions,”  
“This is not the conversation we are having right now. We don’t want to hurt her, but we have to be careful. We knew she had power, but one of the men she killed, she put a hole straight through his face.”  
“He was a Nazi! You all have killed plenty of people, why is this any different?”  
“She doesn’t have the best track record,”  
“What would you do in this plan of yours?” Natasha’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.  
“Just some mild testing,”  
“Only if she consented, I’m assuming? Because I am pretty sure if she doesn’t consent that violates Rule 92 of the Geneva Convention. Anything else you want to add to your list of war crimes?”  
“We think she should be on lockdown unless one of us is with her.” Tony states firmly.  
“I promised her she would never be a prisoner. And she can break out of any lockdown with her powers.”  
“We know that,”  
“You can’t be serious.” I put my hand on my neck, thinking of the shock collar I wore for weeks. The burns.  
“This is for her own protection, Natasha. It would keep her secure, in the building, out of harm’s way.”  
“Do you even hear yourselves?”  
“She is dangerous, we don’t fully understand her powers. Honestly, it was reckless of us to not do this in the first place. We want to cover our bases.”  
“She is a potential threat,”  
“Even I wasn’t put on lock down when I was brought into SHEILD,”  
“You can’t kill people with your mind.”  
“If you lay a hand on her, I will kill you all so slowly and painfully, that death will seem like mercy.”  
I am frozen in place. I can’t be held captive again, not when I am finally free. The office door opens, and slams shut so hard I am surprised the wood doesn’t splinter.  
“Wanda?” I turn to face the office, coming out from behind the file cabinet. “You were glowing,” I look down at my hands. My lip quivers and I can feel the stitches pull.  
“Nat,”  
“So you heard all that?”  
“I can’t be a prisoner, please,”  
“I would never let them hurt you. They are scared of what they don’t understand, what they don’t know. They’ll relax and see that they’re wrong,” She walks over to me and we sit down on the ground, out of sight.  
“What if they don’t? What if they are right? What if I am a threat?”  
“They will change their mind, they are wrong, and you are not a threat.”  
“You can’t be sure that they’re wrong,”  
“I am, I have never been more sure of anything in my life. And if they don’t change their minds, we will leave. We will never come back. You will not be a prisoner here. You will not be a test subject. You are a person, a wonderful, smart, kind person, okay?” I nod.  
“Can we just stay here a little bit longer,” I look around at the tall bookshelves and file cabinets, a complete maze, a perfect hiding place. No one will find us, it’s an escape. It is no wonder Natasha spends so much time here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! Probably the last one until Wednesday! Though I strongly dislike CACW it definitely served as inspo! Can't wait for you all to see what happens next! As always, any comments are welcome and appreciated!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I can't believe how far this story has come! And 2000 hits, like what?! Thank you all for following along and for your kind words!  
> I have fallen so in love with these characters that I have decided to expand the series, so please stay tuned! As always, feedback, comments, and requests are welcome and appreciated! Seriously, if there is anything you want to see, now is the perfect time to ask as the new parts of the series are in development! Thank you!

“Okay, get up,” Natasha stands over me. I roll over in bed.  
“What time is it?”  
“It is nearly ten, you have slept long enough, come on,” she claps her hands, “Cereal and coffee are on the table, change into training clothes,” I slip out of bed and over to my closet, changing into leggings and a sweatshirt. I tie my sneakers almost too tight. Natasha hands me a bowl of Cheerios and my mug. “Did you finish the Spanish translation?”  
“Yes, I will put it on your desk after we train,”  
“What did you think?”  
“It was okay,”  
“You thought Don Quixote was just okay? It is the first modern novel. It is a work of art,”  
“I think the fact I spent thirty-two hours translating it really put a dent in how enjoyable it was,” I take a sip of my coffee.  
“Even if you hated the book, at least you’re back to your sarcastic self,” she takes a sip of her protein shake. “I have to go grocery shopping after we train, do you want to come?”  
“No thanks,” I look down at my cereal and swirl around the spoon with a glowing index finger.  
“That’s a cool trick,” she smiles, “That’s some pretty good control too,”  
“It is easy when there is nothing else going on,” I think of how I was able to make my bed this morning by literally lifting a finger.  
“We could work on that instead of combat if you want,”  
“No,” I drop the spoon and milk splatters, “I could hurt you. If I got distracted, or,”  
“I would be fine, Wanda. You forget I am nearly as strong as Cap and you used to practice with him,” I feel a little guilty. She would never admit it, but she hates that people view her as weak compared to Steve. She is so much smaller, it is easy to forget that they are forged of nearly identical material.  
“I want to work on hand to hand, I have been slacking,” Not a total lie. She lets it drop and nods.  
“I will see you in half an hour.”  
  
“You’re not watching your six,” Natasha huffs as a I feel a hit to the back.  
“How can I watch my six, it is literally behind me,” I reply, spinning around. After three days, the blisters on my feet are finally healed. We have been sparring for half an hour, and for the first time in days, I am starting to feel good, to feel like myself again. The team didn’t apologize, but they haven’t tried to lock me up either. Vision hasn’t come back from Mexico, Tony joined him. Sam and Steve left for a mission last night.  
Natasha gets distracted and I go in for a punch. There is a crash. We’re being attacked. It has to be Hydra. I spin around, powers blazing.  
“Wanda, what did you do?” Steve runs past me. Steve? I look over a see a new dumbbell set where the crash came from. My gaze swivels back to Steve, who is running over to Natasha. Natasha, oh God. Cap pulls her up off the ground. Her gaze remains unfocused for a moment, one hand on her head, the other clutching where I had punched using my powers.  
“Get off, I’m fine,” she mutters, pushing away from Steve. She looks over at me, “I’m okay, Little Witch.” I bolt. My heart is pounding. What did I do? My feet slide on wet leaves. What is wrong with me? Branches scrape against my arms. Is Tony right? I skid to a stop, looking around. In my blind panic I ended up in the woods. How long have I been running? I sink to the ground at the base of a large oak tree. The damp, earthy air of spring fills my lungs and I begin to feel my heartrate slow. I need to go. I am a threat to them all. But I am a threat to the rest of the world too. No matter where I go, I will cause pain. I thought I could finally embrace this part of myself, feel like I finally had control. But I never did, not really. They will always be there, pulling the strings, I will always be a marionette of their creation.  
I finish gathering my thoughts and stand up. I know these woods well from jogging with Sam. I should be about five minutes away from the main road. The forest floor gives way to tar and I begin my walk. A car slows down next to me.  
“Can I offer you a ride?”  
“I’m fine,” I frown. He comes to a complete stop. He’s probably no older than twenty-five.  
“You shouldn’t be walking on this street alone, it is going to get dark soon,”  
“I can take care of myself,” I huff, crossing my arms.  
“Let me give you a ride,” he tries again with a smile.  
“I said I am fine,”   
“What the fuck?” he shifts his car into gear and speeds away. I let my power die down. Where am I going to go? I don’t have any money; I don’t even have my cell phone. There is a campground up ahead. _Opening Memorial Day Weekend_. No one will be here. I step onto the campground and see rows of identical cabins overlooking a lake. As predicted, the grounds are empty. I pick a random cabin and pull a bobby pin from my hair, picking the lock.  
The inside of the one room house is bare, there aren’t even sheets on the bed, but it is better than sleeping outside. I can hear Pietro teasing me, telling me I have gone soft. He is probably right. I lock the door behind me and sit down on the couch, staring at my hands. I’m filled with so much hatred when I look at them. I wish I could cut them off, but I don’t have the courage for that, the stomach. The couch springs squeak as I shift my weight to lie down.  
“Wanda?” a voice echoes. I sit up slowly, my back sore from the uncomfortable cushions. It is dark outside, the only light coming from the full moon. “Wanda? Please,” Her voice gets closer. I move towards the door.  
“Nat, I don’t think she is here,” Sam calls out. I can hear him jogging over. I slide to the floor, my back pressed up against the flimsy wood. Red paint peels off, Flecks of it litter the floor like dried blood.  
“Where else would she be? She couldn’t have gotten far on foot,”  
“This is the girl who did twelve miles half dead in slippers, she could be halfway across New York by now,” Steve points out.  
“This is all your fault!” Natasha yells. There is the sound of splintering wood.  
“Natasha, come on. Fighting Steve isn’t going to help anything,”  
“What if Hydra found her? This is all because you wanted to control her! What is wrong with you people that you think you can have control over other people. Controlling their movements, their thoughts,” her voice is steady, angry.  
“Are we still talking about Wanda?”  
“Sam don’t you dare use your psychoanalyzing bullshit on me right now,” Natasha growls. My hands begin to glow red; I quickly shove them into my sweatshirt. “How could you side with Tony on this Steve?”  
“Because he is right, Wanda proved that today. The little witch is dangerous,”  
“Don’t say that,” her voice is a razor.  
“Say what?”  
“Use my nickname for her like that, like a derogatory term. She is _my_ little witch Steve. And she is a scared kid, you all forget that she is sixteen.” I am a sixteen-year-old kid with a body count I want to yell at her. They need to leave. They are better off without me. Everyone will be better off. A sob escapes me involuntarily. I have no place to go, no place I belong.  
“Listen, I think,”  
“Shut up for a second,” Natasha hisses. I bite my knuckles and squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to make a sound.  
“Wanda isn’t here, we should expand our search,”  
“No, I heard something,”  
“It was probably an animal.” No one says anything for a moment and the silence is deafening.  
“You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up in a minute,”  
“Nat,”  
“Just give me a minute,” Their footsteps retreat through the campground until I can’t hear them any longer. Natasha hasn’t moved. Then the front steps to my cabin creak. “Little Witch? Are you in there?” I feel her weight press against the door. “Wanda, please open up. I’m okay. You didn’t mean to, I know that. They know that.” The porch floorboard squeak as she sits down. “You are scared, that’s okay. You’re allowed to be, a lot has happened. But I’m here, I want to help. The world isn’t a friendly place to people like us, people who are different. It is even harder to go it alone.” After a few moments, the pressure of her weight on the door releases and I can hear her stand up. “Are you in here? Maybe I am being delusional. If you are as much like me as I fear, you are probably long gone. I’m sorry I couldn’t do a better job protecting you. I really tried,” her footsteps fade into the woods with Sam and Steve’s.  
My heart breaks. I realize I didn’t actually want her to leave. I wanted her to stay and tell me that everything will be okay. That I am not what they made me to be. She is here for me. But a part of me also feels relieved. I can’t hurt her again. I lie down on the bare bed and pray for sleep.  
It got cold overnight. The summer cabins have no insulation, and without blankets, I am shivering. I think there may even be frost on the windows. My workout gear provides little warmth. I can’t stay here. The water hasn’t been turned on and staying at a campground is not a permanent solution. I unlock the door and stop in my tracks.  
Natasha is asleep on the porch steps. She wears only shorts and a sweatshirt, her legs tucked under the hoodie as much as she can manage. Her head is leaned back, resting on the railing. She didn’t leave. Of course she didn’t leave. But I have to. I try to step around her, but the old stairs give me away.  
“Wanda?” she lifts her head up, a relieved smile filling her face, “You’re here,”  
“Were you out here all night?”  
“I didn’t want to miss you if you tried to leave,” she untucks her legs and stretches.  
“I don’t want to hurt you again,” I step back over the threshold. “I can’t hurt you again,”   
“Wanda,” I close the door and lock it. She needs to leave.  
“Please let me in,” she asks gently, “We need to talk,”  
“I don’t have control right now, I am dangerous.”  
“Isolating yourself will not make anything better,”  
“Natasha, please leave.”  
“I won’t do that,”  
“Every little thing is setting me off, I can’t promise I won’t hurt you,” I step away from the door trying not to cry. I am shocked when I hear the lock click and Natasha steps in, key in hand. How does she have a key? Where did she get it? My gaze moves from the key to her. There is not a trace of fear.  
“You aren’t going to hurt me,” she says with an amazing combination of confidence and kindness. “You are scared and feel like there is no place safe in the world for you right now.” She steps forward, “But being alone is going to make it so much worse,” I can feel my eyes flickering red, but she doesn’t move away, in fact she moves closer.  
“Stop, I could hurt you,”  
“You aren’t going to,” She doesn’t hesitate and the gap between us becomes nonexistent, “You’re okay,” she brushes my loose hair away from my face, and cups my cheek, “You’re okay,”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt in desperate need of a scene where Nat is being a good mum- probably due to the horribleness that is going on in Lost right now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next one will be out very soon! Thank you again for your lovely comments!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18! Thank you all for your kind comments on chapter 17! Enjoy!

“No, I’m not,” I pull away, “I am not okay,”  
“Wanda,”  
“Let’s go home,”  
“They don’t want me there,”  
“I do,”  
“Why? You of all people shouldn’t want me anywhere near you,”  
“You are scared, and I get that, you have every right to be. But if you stay out here and go it alone, you will hurt someone, do you understand me? Coming back from hurting, killing, an innocent person is damn near impossible,” she looks me in the eyes, “I am not going to make you come home, but I would really like it if you would,”  
“I have no control,” tears well up in my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. They should just lock me up, make everyone’s lives easier.” I pull my arms into myself. “I am a bomb waiting to go off. It is not a matter of if, but when.”   
“Come home, Wanda.” She is giving me a choice. Soon, Cap and Tony will probably remove that feature of the homecoming. I pinch my lips. Natasha smiles in victory. “Good, now come on. I have to return these keys I stole,” she holds up a ring that has at least two dozen keys on it, “I didn’t know what cabin you were going to be in,”  
I wait outside as Natasha breaks into the office once more. The grass glisten with morning dew as the frost from the night fades. She comes back out, locking the knob behind her. We make our way off the grounds.  
“Finally, we have been waiting all night,” I turn around and see Sam holding two cups of coffee.  
“You waited?” Natasha sounds as surprised as I feel.  
“Of course we did,” Sam hands over the to-go cups.  
“Why?” she crosses her arms.  
“We weren’t going to leave you here,” he frowns, “Just because we don’t agree doesn’t mean we’re not a team.”  
“We don’t just disagree, Wilson,” Natasha steps forward.  
“Let’s talk about this more back at the compound,”  
“Where is Steve?”  
“He is waiting in the car.” Without reading her mind, I can know that Natasha wants to say she would rather walk home than ride with Steve.  
“I’m really hungry,” I interject. I just want to be in my own bed.  
“We got bagels,” Sam offers hopefully. Natasha looks over at me and then back to Sam.  
“Fine.” Steve opens his mouth to speak when we get in the car but a quick glare from Nat cuts him off. “If I hear one word from you before we get home, I will slit your throat, do you understand?” He says nothing. Natasha leans back and looks over at me. I want to be out of this car more than she does. I actually don’t think a single one of us wants to be in this car.  
“Nat,” Steve finally begins when we are in the kitchen.  
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t permanently maim you,” I shrink back, Natasha is way too calm. I don’t want to be anywhere near this argument. Sam seems to have the same idea. I take my breakfast and hide in my room. The TV goes loud enough that I cannot hear their argument. The more I hear from Tony and Steve, the more I fear they are right.  
Three hours later, Natasha comes in dripping with sweat and in workout gear. She sits down next to me on my bed, looking at the TV. There is a commercial for ShamWow.  
“You know they make good points,” I look over at her.  
“No, they don’t.” she scowls, “Don’t let them convince you otherwise. I know Tony, as soon as he gets back here, he is going to try and convince you that it is for your own good.”  
“But he might be right. I’m not exactly stable right now.”  
“I can set you up with someone to help,”   
“No, I don’t want that,” I pull my knees up to my chest. “I just need to work through this myself.” I run a finger along the stitches on my lip. They should come out soon.  
“Will you come down to the gym later?”  
“No, definitely not.”  
“I’m not leaving until you say yes,”  
“Nat,”  
“We don’t even have to spar. You can run or lift weights. You definitely like running,” she hints.  
“Real subtle,” I huff, “I’m sorry I ran off,” I hug my legs closer, “How did you know where to find me?”  
“Seventy-seven percent of runaways stay within fifty miles of their home. I had a feeling you didn’t go far. The campground was the most logical place to stop. It isn’t like you would hitchhike.” She turns me to face her, “But what you did was reckless. You ran off without thinking about the consequences. In the future, if you are running off, take me with you. I am incredibly good at it,” she stands up. “I will see you in the gym after dinner.”  
I skip dinner and head down to the gym at seven. Natasha is waiting in her tactical gear.  
“You said we aren’t sparring,”  
“We’re not. There’s a mission,”  
“I am not going on a mission, are you serious?”  
“We are obviously not putting you in battle, Wanda. You are waiting on the jet,”  
“What?” I clench my teeth.  
“You can’t stay here alone,”  
“Is Maria not available to babysit?”  
“Just bring your translations and a math workbook. You will have plenty to do.”  
  
While I skipped dinner, Tony arrived back at the facility. Vision will be arriving tomorrow after assisting Pepper with something in California. I sit alone on the quinjet as the four other Avengers go through the plan. We are high over the Atlantic on our way to Morocco.  
“The streets are really narrow in Tangier, I think we should just take the rooftops,” Cap suggests.  
“I don’t know, the streets have a map, they’re predictable.”  
“You’re just saying you want the roof because you’re the only one here who doesn’t speak Arabic,” Nat casts an accusatory glare at Cap. “The only reason I am here at all is because you idiots _need_ me. I am the only one who has had a mission here, let alone been to the city.” She looks over at Tony, “A layover doesn’t count.” With a swipe of her hand, an interactive projection of the city comes up. I go back to my translation.  
The quinjet hovers a few feet above a small clearing in dark mode. No one would ever know the Avengers have arrived. The team goes over their plan on more time and disembarks.  
“Stay here,” Natasha reminds me one last time before jumping out.  
“Always stay here, stay in the car, stay in the jet. Just let me stay home,” I grumble into my Spanish book. However, translating proves to be impossible as everything that is said into the coms echoes through the jet’s speakers.  
“Alright, it’s go time people,” Tony mutters twenty minutes in. I half listen as I scroll through my phone. I should sign up for Instagram, maybe Twitter. I snort at the idea of people seeing pictures of Natasha wearing a face mask and a fuzzy robe.  
“Guys, we’ve got a problem,” Nat’s voice reverberates around the cabin of the ship.  
“What is it Widow?” There is the sound of gunfire and screaming.  
“They’re in the medina.”  
“Two minutes out,” Tony’s voice echoes through.  
“Five for me,”  
“You’ll have me in thirty seconds,” Sam finishes. I should have paid attention to their plans. Why are they are spread out? How many targets are there?  
“Fuck,” Nat groans. “Can you hurry?”  
“Black Widow, status report?”  
“Just a graze, more irritating than anything,” I hear more gunfire. “Don’t worry, that was me,” she puffs. “There are way too many civilians around.”  
“From my view, it will be near impossible to clear them out. Falcon?” Tony asks.  
“No way.”  
“Widow that is not a graze,” Steve’s voice shakes. I stand up.  
“I am fine,” there is some jostling and I hear her muffled voice, “Wanda can hear us over the coms,” Wait in the ship they said. As if. I open up the quinjet door and jump out, landing gracefully from the ten-foot drop. The medina. I just have to find the medina. I run over to a map. Shit, it is a district. How am I supposed to find them in a district?  
“Guys, we’ve got a problem,” Tony’s voice echoes. I spot him floating above about two blocks away. I start running. The streets weave and slope, random staircases intersect. “Heat signatures show they’ve got a bomb,”  
“What do you mean they have a bomb?” Natasha rasps. I run faster, keeping my eye on Ironman in the sky. One block.  
“Get rid of it,” Cap orders.  
“We need to get out of here, this is not a save the day instance. We have about forty-five seconds to get out of here.” Tony’s figure descends from the sky. “It’s one of mine, there’s no kill switch, it’s strong enough to level the city. This was a suicide mission for them.”  
“Seriously?” Sam growls. I see him soar through the air.  
“This city has a million people, we can’t evacuate them all,” I skid into the clearing and see the team. They haven’t noticed me yet. Natasha is bleeding and but she’s standing. I spot the bomb.  
“Guys, we have got to get to the quinjet,” They aren’t going to make it to the quinjet. None of us would make it. I know what I have to do. I walk towards the bomb, calming my heartbeat. I can do this. I can save these people. I can save the team. I can save Nat. I am steps away when I hear it.  
“Wanda!” A guttural scream rips through me. Natasha is sprinting towards me. For a moment, I turn and meet her eyes. In that moment, she knows what I am doing. I won’t let her stop me. I use my powers to shove her into Cap’s arms. I am standing over the bomb. The Stark logo stares back at me. But I am not a little girl anymore. This is the calmest I have felt in days. I close my eyes for a moment. I open them and feel the powers in my hand grow in intensity. They encase the bomb. The swirls grow tighter and stronger and faster. I can feel my power growing exponentially, doubling every second. Energy crackles in the dry air. The bomb explodes.

“Wanda? Come on, wake up,” Someone is shaking my shoulders. I just want to sleep.  
“I’m okay,” I murmur. I feel myself lifted off the ground and pulled into a hug. I open my eyes. “Nat, you’re bleeding all over me,”  
“I don’t care,” she helps me stand up, “I told you to stay on the jet!”   
“Everyone was going to die!” I am seeing double, I am exhausted. I don’t think I have ever demanded so much of my powers, of myself.  
“You would have been safe in the quinjet! It would have withstood the bomb! Why do you never do what I ask?”  
“Because she’s sixteen,” Tony smiles at me. “That was really something, kid. Stupid as hell, but brave,”  
“You did good,” Cap adds. They guiltily look between Nat and I. “Sorry for agreeing with Tony,” he adds. Sam nudges Ironman forward.  
“And I’m sorry,” Tony begins to apologize. I feel my knees buckle. Natasha catches me quickly, her blood presses into my t-shirt. I forgot she was injured. My eyelids flutter. Steve takes me from her arms, hoisting me into his.  
“Nat, you’re hurt,” I try to turn to face her, but my movements are weak.  
“I’m okay, and they can finish their apologies later, you just sleep. You are so brave and so loved, Little Witch,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the corny ending, but I wanted to finish on a happy note for once! It came out so cheesy (idk if you noticed but happy endings aren't my thing ;) lol) Not entirely sure how I feel about the chapter as a whole but I need to move the plot along!  
> Look forward to hearing what you think!  
> Next chapter will probably be out late Friday night or early Saturday afternoon!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I’ve been working on Lost and the (potential) prequel! Still brainstorming ideas for what to do after Lost... Hope you all like this new chapter, it was fun to write! Sorry for any formatting issues- I am posting from my phone again. I’ll be going in later tonight to fix it. I love comments, so any feedback you leave is much appreciated!

I wake up in bed at the compound with Natasha asleep in the armchair next to me, a blood transfusion in process. Bandages are wrapped around her shoulder where she must have been shot. My body aches as though I have run a marathon, but I have no injuries. I head into the bathroom for a shower and the hot water soothes my muscles. I turn off the water and towel off. Natasha is still asleep when I come back out. She still has dirt on her face from battle. 

I cautiously head out to the kitchen. Sam is making French toast. He looks over his shoulder.

“Hey Wanda, two or three pieces?” 

“Three please,” I sit down at the counter. Tony and Steve join a few minutes later, sweaty from a workout. Everyone sits in the awkward silence for a few beats, waiting for someone to say something. 

“So have you given Wanda a proper apology yet?” Natasha steps into the kitchen with a frown, going over to the coffee maker. My ear burn. 

“Good morning to you too, Natasha,” Tony pulls out the ingredients for his usual kale smoothie from the fridge. A knife embeds itself in the wall, almost grazing his ear. Natasha’s eyes are burning. 

“Wanda, I am sorry for trying to imprison you, it was wrong,” he looks over to Nat like a student looking for a teacher’s approval. Natasha looks to Steve. 

“And I’m sorry for going along with the idea. Limiting your freedom is a breach upon your constitutional rights as a resident of the United States.” 

“I should have tried to stop them or change their mind,” Sam places the French toast in front of me. Natasha nods with satisfaction, sipping her coffee. 

Spring begins to morph into summer as May quickly becomes late June. I train with Natasha outside, while Steve and Sam play basketball on the court nearby. 

“Daydreaming?” She teases as a blow lands on my ribs. 

“It is so nice out, I didn’t know there could be nice weather here,” I look up at the sky, white fluffy clouds above us. Daffodils push out of the ground, along with buttercups and heather. 

“I forget you’ve only been here for seven months, the worst seven months to be in the Northeast,” she laughs. “What if we call it quits and head to the lake?” She turns to the boys, “You guys up for some boating?” 

“We have a boat?”

The lake the compound sits on had been a mix of freezing water and broken ice since I arrived. However, as I follow Natasha down to the dock, ducks and swans float in the water. Steve and Sam join a few minutes later with a cooler. 

I grip the bar in front of me as we splash through the water. Sam seems equally horrified, but Steve is grinning ear to ear at Natasha’s driving. She turns so fast that I fear the boat is going to flip. Water sprays around us, soaking me to the bone. Finally, we come to a stop and apparently the look in my face is enough to cause Natasha to double over in a fit of laughter, 

“That was awful!” I exclaim, trying not to laugh myself. Steve opens up the cooler and gets out three beers, tossing me a lemonade. “I feel like I should get a beer for surviving that,” 

“Cap,” Sam says, however Natasha quickly interjects, gesturing to her position at the steering wheel,

“I’m the captain now,” Natasha declares. 

“You are ridiculous,” Steve takes a sip of his beer. 

“Diving contest!” Natasha declares. I don’t think I have ever seen her in such high spirits. Steve and Sam strip down to their trunks and I begin to pull off my pants. Natasha takes off her clothes, revealing her black bikini. Her hand self consciously covers the scar from The Winter Soldier. She turns around and I see the exit wound for the first time. It is much larger and looks like it tore through a significant portion of her lower back muscles. Her eyes drift to Steve, who is staring at the scars.

“Guess it should have been bye bye bikinis, huh, Rogers?” Steve’s muscles are tight and flexing. 

“You are going to lose,” he says finally, diving into the water. We jump in after him. 

“You are all crazy, this water is freezing,” Sam yelps, he struggles to get back onto the boat. I agree with him, and use my powers to propel myself back up. 

“Must have been the seventy years I spent stuck in the Arctic,” Steve treads water. 

“I think the Russian winters did it for me,” Natasha laughs, doing the back stroke away from the boat. Sam and I dry off quickly in the late June sun. I smile as the beams hit my face. Finally, after an hour of swimming, Nat and Steve climb back into the boat. 

“So are you excited?” Steve asks, leaning back on one of the leather seats.

“Excited for what?” I turn to Nat, it would explain why she is in such a good mood.

“Her birthday next week,” Steve explains.

“It’s your birthday?” Sam looks over at Nat, “How old are you turning? Twenty-two, three?” I choke on my lemonade. Steve is staring at Sam, while Natasha’s face has darkened. 

“Sam, you’re joking, right?” Steve asks. 

“No?” He looks between the three of us. “I’m sorry, am I missing something?” 

“I’m turning thirty-two,” Natasha says finally. 

“Wow, you look really good for thirty-two,” Sam raises his eyebrows. I cringe, knowing Natasha must be dying inside.

“Thank you,” she grits out. Sam definitely knows something is up now. He looks to Steve who shakes his head. 

“So, Nat, you’re visiting Clint, right?” I frown. She hadn’t told me. She smiles at Cap, grateful for the change of subject. 

“Yes, I leave in two days.”

“You’re leaving?” I try. It to be too hurt that this is the first I’m hearing of this. 

“I was talking to Laura last night,” Natasha looks at me, “It was a last minute decision. Clint’s not doing so hot,” Oh.

“But you can come with me to visit Tony and Pepper in the Hampton's,” Steve offers, “It’ll be a good way to celebrate your first Fourth of July,” 

“Where are you going for the holiday?” I look to Sam who still seems troubled by Natasha’s reaction. 

“Visiting my sister and her kids, it’ll be a big party,” 

“That sounds awesome,” Natasha says kindly, trying to show she isn’t mad at him. I am sure as soon as he and Steve are alone, Steve will explain the situation.

* * *

Five days later, Steve and I are on small biplane to the Hamptons. He pilots the plane, seeming happy to be flying in a normal aircraft for once. 

“The Fourth of July is amazing, Wanda. I can’t wait for you to experience it.” We land at the Montauk Airport and I see Pepper waving to us from a Jeep, her hair blowing in the wind. 

“Hello, welcome!” She hops down from the car, taking my bag. “We are so happy you could join us,” Her bright smile is infectious. She points out her favorite spots on the drive to the house. Seagulls caw overhead. It is like being on a movie set. She clicks a button and the cast iron gates open, and the car bumps along a cobblestone driveway until coming to a stop in front of a shingle style mansion. Steve whistles. 

“Not Tony’s usual style,” Pepper laughs.

“That’s because it’s not Tony’s, it’s mine.” She hops out of the car and Tony leans in the doorway, smiling. 

“Welcome to the Potts Estate,” Tony gestures to the foyer. 

“It was my uncles,” Pepper explains. Inside, crisp white walls and dark wood floors are accompanied by navy blue furniture. 

“I’ll show you to your room,” Pepper squeezes my shoulder and leads me up a staircase while Tony and Steve begin to discuss something. My room has a balcony and en-suite, both overlooking the ocean. 

“This is beautiful,” 

“I’m so glad you like it. We’re having lobster tonight, do you like lobster?”

“I’ve never had it,” I admit sheepishly. 

“Oh it is delicious,” she grins, “And tomorrow we’re going to the club, and on The Fourth, a cookout. It should be small, only about fifty people,” Fifty people does not sound small. “I’ll leave you to get settled.” 

I learn I like lobster, and Natasha’s book recommendation for the weekend, _Emma,_ even if I was translating it from Spanish to English. The English copy sits in my suitcase so I can grade myself. The white sand squishes beneath my toes and I have some light color on my shoulders. A year ago, I was sitting in a cell being injected with chemicals, now I am on the private beach of a billionaire reading classic literature in a new language. But I am also without Pietro. I realize it has been a few days since I thought of him. Guilt floods me. I stare out at the ocean and spot two boats sailing by. 

“Do you think they are a little close?” I look to Steve. 

“No, they’re outside the property rights,” Steve gazes out. “It’s okay to relax and be happy, Wanda. I know it’s hard, but it’s moments like these that make life worth living,” There are the crunching steps of someone walking in the sand. I turn and see Vision, a smile blooming across my face.

“Viz! Happy Fourth of July!” I jump into his arms. It has been weeks since I last saw him. His perfect teeth smile back at me. 

“Hello Wanda, Steve,” he nods to the super soldier who lays on a towel. “It is good to see you both. I have missed you,” he looks down at me. 

“I’ve missed you too, Vision.” Steve jokes from his spot on the ground, the last comment was clearly meant for me. 

I wake up early the next morning and dash down the stairs, it feels like Christmas. Tony is in the kitchen chopping up tomatoes in an American flag T-shirt and matching swim trunks. 

“Here, you cut the onions,” 

“Couldn’t you have just hired a caterer?” I ask, my eyes watering. 

“Yes, but this is tradition,” He explains, sliding me a cup of coffee. Steve comes into the kitchen wearing a Captain America t-shirt. 

“God Rogers, a little self absorbed?”

“You bought this for me and told me to wear it today,” Steve points out, sitting at the counter. I wash my hands from the onions and sip my coffee. Pepper dances into the kitchen in a white sundress, her hair high up in a ponytail. 

“Wanda, I picked you up an outfit yesterday while I was out shopping,” she holds out the bag. “I hope you don’t mind,” I take the gift bag and remove a beautiful red sundress.

“Oh thank you,” 

“It looks like it is going to fit perfectly,” I hold up the lightweight cotton. “Everyone will be arriving in a few hours,” she starts to list of tasks for Tony. I quickly head upstairs to get ready. 

The party is not what I expected. Badminton and cornhole have been set up, along with horseshoes. American themed songs blast through the speakers while everyone eats watermelon and chips. People are playing chicken in the pool. 

Tony slyly hands me a hard lemonade, “Don’t tell Nat or Mr. Morality,” I grin and pour it into a red solo cup. Early afternoon quickly melts into early evening. The smell of burgers and hotdogs wafers through the air. Pasta salad, coleslaw, and corn on the cob rounds out the meal. As the sun begins to set, a boom goes off in the distance. I jump up, my heart racing. No one else seems alarmed. Fireworks. Right. Steve seems to be the only one who noticed. 

“Okay everyone, twenty minutes before the big show!” Tony announces. “Vision and I will be setting off the most amazing display of your life!” 

“Wanda?” I flinch as a hand rests on my shoulder, “Want to go somewhere else to watch?” I nod, grateful. We slip away from the party and head up to the roof of the house, a stairway leading to a captain’s walk. 

“Thank you,” 

“No problem, we don’t even have to watch. We can go to the basement, put on a movie,” he offers. I shake my head. 

“I want to watch, but it’s definitely best I’m not near civilians, just in case,” I laugh uneasily. 

“I am sorry, Wanda. For before. It was cruel to want to lock you up just because you were a potential threat,”

“Were?” I gesture to the fact that we’re on a roof far away from any other people. He laughs. 

“Okay, fair point. But the suggestion should have never even been made. You’re a member of our team, our family. Sorry we forgot that.” The first of Tony’s fireworks goes off. I grip the railing on the fence. The boom ignites my fight or flight response. My hands glow red, but I want to run. I guess it can be fight and flight. “You good, kid?” I nod, watching the light show, my back stiff. Steve wraps a reassuring arm around my shoulders and I’m touched. He trusts me not to lose control, to go off the like the explosives we are watching. I think of the last time I saw fireworks, with Vision in New Years Eve. From up here, I can see his stone glowing on the beach as he lights the fuse for each one. After forty-five minutes, the show ends and I feel the tension release. I pull my hands away from the railings. 

“That was good,” I breathe, relieved. 

“Yeah it was a great show,” 

But we both know what I meant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happy little chapter! I hope you enjoyed, next one will be out probably late Tuesday or Wednesday. Thank you all for following along!!  
> And I want to add a shout out to my commenters (not a word but it should be), you are the reason this story is still going!! I would not have been confident enough in my writing or thinking people would be interested enough in my stories to be going this long. Thank you!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20!! What?! I can't believe it! Thank you all for following along! This chapter was originally super dark, like I found it disturbing and it made Lost look like a trip to Disney World. So I had to rewrite the whole thing lol  
> Also, I finally have a plan for Part 4 of the series! The document holding the series on my computer is HUGE! Anyways, thank you all for following along for so many chapters and I love reading all your comments about the story! Enjoy!

Rather than fly home with Steve at the end of the week, Pepper and I head into the city. Natasha is on a mission in Switzerland and won’t be back until next week. I think of the new leather jacket in one of my shopping bags. Everyone seems to know Pepper in each store, happy to bring anything she wants.  
“I think Natasha is really going to like her new jacket,” Pepper smiles as we sit down for salad at a café. New York City is in the middle of a heat wave, and I am happy to be inside the air conditioning rather than going in and out of stores.  
“Thank you,” I smile at her. My phone dings, an event in and of itself. Pepper’s does as well. “Looks like my vacation is over,” The email from Steve includes a plane ticket and instructions. Natasha is included on the email. I realize, with a jolt of excitement, this will be our first mission together. Security detail for a peace conference in Geneva.  
“I’ll give you a ride to the airport,” Pepper offers.

  
I sit in the terminal, my leg bouncing up and down. I have never flown on a commercial plane before or been to an airport. It is filled to the brim with people. People pushed and shoved their way through TSA. The crowds make me feel like I am suffocating. I can’t sit here any longer. I jump up from my seat, getting wary glances from two other travelers, and wander through the shops. After buying a magazine and snacks, I get in line at Starbucks. Still an hour until boarding. How did it only take ten minutes for me to pick out food? It takes twenty-minutes to get through the line at the coffee shop.  
“Next,” the barista calls.  
“Grande hibiscus refresher, please,” I hand her five dollars. She stares for a beat, trying to place my face.  
“Wanda,” she scribbles my name down on the cup and gestures for me to step aside. Someone snaps a picture with their phone, the flash going off. I try to pretend I didn’t notice, like Natasha does. But I feel sweat pooling on my lower back. I grab my iced tea and dart out of line, back to the safety of the gate. First class is called, and I board the plane gratefully. My suitcase is put in the overhead bin, the box holding Natasha’s new jacket inside. I sit down in my seat and close my eyes.  
“Hi,” one opens. I look to my left and see a girl my age sitting next to me. Her eyes are bright and happy, “I’m Zoe,”  
“Wanda,”  
“Looks like we’re seat buddies,” she grins, taking off her sweatshirt. “Why are you heading to Geneva?”  
“The Peace Conference,” I answer honestly.  
“Wow, that’s cool, I’m heading to camp for the rest of the summer, horse back riding.” She pulls up her phone and shows me a picture of her on a horse. “So, are you from New York?”  
“I live here,”  
“Me too, where do you go to school?” she leans forward.  
“I’m homeschooled.” She asks a lot of questions; Natasha would be getting suspicious. I have the feeling she is just being friendly. My short answers don’t seem to deter her enthusiasm.  
“Are you on Instagram?” she asks, “I’ll follow you,”  
“I’m not on social media,” her thumbs freeze.  
“Well we have to get you signed up, pull out your phone,” Flabbergasted, I do as she asks. “First class has free Wi-Fi, pretty sure it’s the only reason it is worth it, and maybe the hot towels.” She laughs. I type in my password for the App Store and Instagram downloads. It needs an email. I don’t think Tony would be pleased if I used my encrypted email that is for mission updates. “Do you live under a rock? How do you go without an email?”  
“I have a work email,”  
“Okay, so make a Gmail. You’ll need it for Twitter too,” I raise my eyebrows, but she is undeterred. “This should count as my community service for the summer, bringing someone into the 21st Century,” she teases. She looks down at the email I created. Her buzzing stills. “Wait,” I twitch my lips, “You’re the Wanda Maximoff?” she whispers it, and I am thankful. None of the others in first class seem to be paying us any mind. “This is wild, I am helping an _Avenger_ set up an Instagram,” Her smiles grows, “We have to come up with the perfect handle,” I type in WandaMaximoff. It isn’t available. Neither is ScarletWitch. “What about ScarletBitch?” she wriggles her eyebrows.  
“I think Cap would have a conniption,” I laugh.  
“Give me one minute,” she goes through her phone quickly, typing like a mad woman. Her eyes dart around her phone until she finally looks up, smiling. “WandaMaximoff is now available,” she types it in quickly and hands me the phone to create a password.  
“How did you do that?”  
“We all have our superpowers,” she cracks her knuckles, she has me laughing again. “Okay, now we have to figure out your first post,” she drums her fingers on the tray table. “We should do ‘resting witch face’ for a moody pic, or ‘basic witch’ if there is a picture of you doing something like drinking Starbucks.” Her eyes land on my still full iced tea.  
“This is a PR nightmare waiting to happen,”  
“OMG, that is a perfect caption,” she exclaims. She starts going through my photos, “Don’t you take any selfies?” she sighs. “We’ll just have to take you first picture here, unless you want to use a paparazzi pic,” She instructs me how to pose and takes the photo, adding filters and changing the lighting. She clicks post. “Now we have to take a selfie, my friends will not believe I met you,” she pulls out her phone and pulls me in for a photo. “I’ll tag you,” she assures me. I have no clue what that means. She follows me and I follow her back. Her 1.2 million followers quickly begin to trickle over to me. I look through Instagram, fascinated. I find that Tony has an account, I follow him. The Avengers have a page too. I notice a photo of me with Cap on the Third of July during dinner. We were making fun of Tony. Pepper must have taken it and posted it to the account. My phone vibrates. Rather than the angry text I expect from Tony, it is just a notification that he followed me back. “You are so going to go viral,” she leans back in the seat. By the time we land in Switzerland, I am verified, and Zoe has given me her number.  
“Let me know if you need anything, I’m here for school too. If you need a place to crash while saving the world or something,” she grabs her purse and heads out to meet the chauffer of her town car. I take a cab to the apartment that Natasha and I will be staying at for the next two weeks, but not before stopping at the grocery store and getting the items needed for a small birthday party.

  
The apartment is a block from the train station where I will be meeting Natasha at three-thirty. It is a quaint third floor walkup with a balcony. The kitchen, living, and dining area are squeezed together, and there is only one bedroom- a full sized bed on either wall. I find only one bathroom as well. It will be tight, but we won’t be here long. I preheat the oven and start on her cake. Just as I finish frosting the lopsided creation, the grandfather clock chimes three times. I step back and survey my work. Streamers hang from the ceiling and a banner reading _Bon anniversaire!_ They didn’t have English or Russian. Quickly, before I forget, I take the box holding the leather jacket out of my suitcase, it had been tied shut with a crisp red bow. I step out of the apartment and walk down the street. It feels good to be back in Europe, even if America is my home now.  
The train station is busier than the airport. I crane my neck to try and see the track number for the 3:30 from Zurich. Track four, now arriving I hop down off the bench I was standing on and head to the rendezvous point outside. The small café is filled except for a single table which gives me a view of everyone who is approaching. I search for the signature flash of red hair and spot it in the crowd. She makes her way to the front of the café, confusion clouding her face when she sees me.  
“Hi,” I smile at her.  
“What are you doing here?” she sits down at the table. She looks like hell, “I am supposed to be meeting Steve for the conference,”  
“He had to cancel, sent me instead. He sent out an email update,”  
“My phone has been dead for three days.” Her skin is paler than usual, and there are dark bags under her eyes.  
“Are you okay?” She doesn’t meet my eyes.  
“Have you been to the apartment?” I nod and she lets me lead the way, staying a step or two behind. When I look back, she has her head dropped, shoulders slouched, and hands stuffed into the pouch of her hoodie. It is like she is doing everything she can to disappear. We go up the two flights of stairs to reach our apartment. I unlock the door and hope my decorations will lift her spirits. If she notices them, she gives no indication. Instead, she sits down on the white couch and removes her pants. I look in horror at the gash on her left thigh, it is infected. She opens up her duffel and removes the first aid kit. Her right-hand stays in the hoodie pocket.  
“Natasha?” she doesn’t look up at me, instead, she takes her good arm and shoved the right back into socket. I gag at the sound. She takes a knife out of her pants pocket and goes towards her wound. “Natasha!” I put out my hand and the knife flies into mine, the blade cuts my palm lightly.  
“I need to cut out the infection,”  
“We have antibiotics and Neosporin,” I put down the knife. Her eyes land on my hand. “I’m fine,” she doesn’t say anything. I begin to treat the wound and apply gauze, taping it in place. She doesn’t flinch once. “Aren’t you in pain?”  
“No.” she answers honestly. She looks around the room, confusion passing over her face once more. “Why is the apartment decorated?”  
“For your birthday,” I remind her carefully.  
“How long has it been?”  
“Today is the ninth,” she closes her eyes, “of July,” I add hastily. She nods, opening her eyes once more.  
“It feels like it’s been longer.” I don’t know what to say to that.  
“What happened on the mission?” I ask, scared to know.  
“It was a success, that is all that matters.” She stands up from the now blood-stained white couch. Her knees knock together. “We need to go over our plan for the security detail tomorrow.” She stumbles forward, losing her balance. She reaches for the table to steady herself, but misses, catching the dining chair instead.  
“Nat?”  
“I’m fine!” she hisses, standing up. Natasha’s eyes are glassy and her gaze flits away from me, like she isn’t in the room. It is similar to how she was a few months ago. I know better now than to try and pull her out. It clears after a minute; she looks at me, her eyes slightly clearer. “I’m okay, don’t call anyone. I think I just need to sleep,” She leans against the chair for a moment and I wonder if she has fallen asleep right there, but she pulls herself off the ground and makes it to the bedroom, collapsing onto the nearest bed. I bandage up my hand and begin to clean the apartment. There will be no getting the blood of that couch. I cover up the cake and put it in the fridge, then take down the streamers and banner. There is a crash in the bedroom. I rush over and find that in her sleep, Natasha had knocked over a vase that sat on the nightstand. All the blankets had been kicked off the bed. Carefully and quietly I put them back over her. She doesn’t even wake up as I pull her hair away from her face and stick it into a bun, too knotted for a braid. Dried blood flakes off of her locks and onto my hands. I can’t find any head injuries. I bite the inside of my cheek. For Natasha to sleep through any of this, something has to be seriously wrong. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at her, unsure what to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is going on with Nat?! What is with the long winded Instagram sign up? (trust me, it has a purpose!) Definitely not my favorite chapter that Ive written but can’t win them all 🤷🏽♀️   
> Next chapter should be out by Friday!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Posted from my phone, so a little weird on the formatting. I would say I’m going to go in and fix it later, but we all know I probably won’t 😂😉  
> Enjoy! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!

My stomach growls, waking me up. The last thing I ate were chips on the plane. I roll away from the window, trying to avoid the early morning sun that wants me to rise faster. With my eyes half-closed, I glance over at Natasha’s bed. She’s not in it. I jump up and race to the front room, my heart pounding. She sits at the dining table, her head bent over stacks of paper.

“Oh, thank God,” I sigh in relief, heading over to the coffee maker.

“We should leave in an hour,” she doesn’t look up from her files.

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”

“I am fine.” Her voice is cold and steely, a tone I have only ever heard her use with Tony, and occasionally Steve. I take the cake out of the fridge and cut two slices. The coffee finishes brewing. After placing a mug and a plate of cake in front of her, I do the same for myself.

“It is the only food we have,” I explain. She doesn’t acknowledge the coffee, cake, or me. Her eyes scanning the papers robotically. I time it, every thirty seconds she flips the page. It is like watching a machine. I sip my coffee and eat the cake, which is too sweet to have before it is even seven o’clock. She flips the last page and finally looks up. Her eyes land on the breakfast. Her slice says Birt. Her hand shakes as she picks up the fork. But it seems with sheer will alone, it steadies. She finishes the piece and stands up, steadier than last night. After rinsing her plate, she heads to the bathroom. The shower water begins to run. I quickly read the case file, though not at her speed, nor with her retention. But it is a basic security detail that the Avengers were called on proactively. It is the perfect place for a terrorist attack. I am sixteen and am supposed to defend the most powerful individuals in the world from radicals. I push down the panicky laugh that begins to bubble up in my throat.

Natasha steps out of the bathroom in just a towel and I am able to see far more of her injuries than I could last night. I follow her into the bedroom. There is bruising all around the arm that was out of socket. There is a slice on her chest that I wish I had treated last night; it could use stitches. Apparently, Natasha thinks the same. She sits down on the bed and pulls out the suture kit. My offers to help are not heard. She sews it shut herself, the stitches messy and lopsided.

“Do you still have the antibiotics?” she asks suddenly. I nod and head over to the dresser next to my bed. I had found this kit while I waited for the cake to bake yesterday. It was practically a pharmacy in a box.

“Why?” I place the plastic bin on the bed next to her.

“I have a UTI,” she mutters, taking the kit. I cringe, knowing the implications of the statement. She digs through, looking at pill bottles. She grabs one and dry swallows a pill. “You need to take a shower. We are leaving in twenty minutes." I cast one more worried glance before heading into the bathroom. There is a ring of blood on the floor of the shower. I shower quickly and head into the bedroom. My uniform for these next two weeks is remarkably similar to the Strike Team uniforms at SHIELD. I am fairly certain the logo was just torn off and replaced with the signature A. It had all been hanging in the closet upon our arrival, along with weapons. I eye the guns with excitement, but now does not seem to be the time to ask Natasha if I can try it out. She doesn’t even winces as she pulls on her tactical suit over the wound on her leg.

“Nat,” I ask gently, “are you okay?” For a moment, her eyes soften, but it is gone in a flash, replaced with the dead look she has had in her eyes all morning. There is town car waiting outside the apartment to take us to the conference center. No one speaks. We are dropped off at the back of the building and greeted by the head of security.

“We were told you would be accompanied by Captain America.” He crosses his arms, looking over at me.

“Well we would be happy to leave and take our services elsewhere if you would prefer.” The head of security stares at her for a minute, considering whether or not she is bluffing. I am almost certain Natasha wants him to tell us to leave. She looks like she is in the mood to pick a fight.

“You’re better than nothing,” he concedes. Great vote of confidence from this guy. I think Nat may try to kill him. “I don’t know how I feel about working with a kid though,”

“I don’t know how I feel about working with Cheeto Fingers over there, but here we are.” The young security guard she is referencing hastily wipes his hands on his pants, leaving streak of orange dust. “Unless you have something constructive to add, I don’t want to hear from you. We are here to do our job and you will only get in the way.” She stalks off and I flash an apologetic smile to the security guards, despite their rudeness, before racing after her.

“Nat, I think you pissed them off,”

“They said they needed us,” I follow her into a balcony where she sets up her sniper rifle. It overlooks the floor below where the tables have been set up in a horseshoe. “It’s not my fault they are incompetent.”

“You aren’t acting like yourself,” I bite my cheek.

“Wanda,” she warns.

“I am just worried about,”

“I swear to God, Wanda, say another word and I will, She cuts herself off and I feel my throat get tight. Horror flickers across her face. “I can’t, I just,” she rubs her eyes, “Head down to the floor and do some rounds. I need to be alone,” I nod and scurry out of the room.

Down on the first floor, leaders in business, politics, and military operations have begun to gather. I am surprised Tony isn’t here. He would be perfect for this mission. Steve would have been great. I wish he were here instead of me.

“Miss Maximoff, correct?” I turn and smile at a woman, “Councilwoman Hawley,”

“Oh its nice to meet you,” I smile at her and shake her hand.

“Pleasure is mine, you have made a name for yourself in my circles. We were extremely impressed when we heard about Morocco. You are quite the hero.” I blush. “I have to say, we did discuss the ethical ramifications of having you on the Avengers being that you are not an adult. Miss Romanoff made an amazing case for you. I must be getting to my seat, but it was a pleasure to meet you. Please give Natasha and the team my best.” She takes her seat next the U.S. Secretary of State. The floor begins to become full; I drift off to the side, hugging the wall. Cheeto Fingers stands next to me. He smiles.

“You know, I think its pretty cool that you and Black Widow are here, I don’t care what Runner says.”

“Oh, thanks,” I fiddle with the hem of my uniform, “I’m sorry about what Widow said,” I reply. I can imagine Natasha listening over coms right now, getting angry with me for socializing. Part of me is happy that I am pissing her off.

“This is my first time on security, needed a job fresh out of college. Loans and stuff,” he tugs on his bullet proof vest. The opening session starts. The person heading the conference, a politician from Norway, begins. “Imagine if this wasn’t in English?” he leans over. I frown. He is starting to get irritating. I am trying to work. I scan the room, looking for anything suspicious. The heavily curtained walls make me uncomfortable, like someone could hide behind the curtains. It is actually what I would prefer to do right now. The idea is almost laughable, playing hide and seek right now. “Why are you smirking?” he asks. I try to make my face stern and serious, but it makes it worse. I cover it up with a cough.

The meeting ends for the day at four o‘clock. I find Natasha waiting out back.

“Did you have fun socializing today?”

“I was talking with another team member, as far as I’m aware, that is allowed,” I fire back, tired from the days events.

“You’re first priority is the mission, not making friends.”

“I know that, this isn’t my first time in the field,” I pull out my phone to call the car service and stop. “You know what? I’m going to walk.” I march off, leaving he behind. I can feel my eyes glowing red and force myself to relax. We need food, there’s nothing in the apartment besides leftover yellow cake. People cast wary glances at me, I forgot I was wearing obvious tactical gear. Normally, even on missions, I’m in civilian looking clothes. I hurry up and pay for the food. I’m only a block away from the apartment and pause to savor the late afternoon sun. The closer I get to our building, the more my anger with Natasha builds. I pull open the door to the apartment. It should have been locked. Why wasn’t it locked? I put down the groceries on the floor. Nothing seems out of place. I walk slowly through the living room and can see directly into the bedroom, nothing out of the ordinary. I find her on the floor of the bathroom, the shower running and the room filling with steam.

“Nat?” She looks up at me and my anger with her melts away. I had never seen her look so broken. She rests her head on the lip of the tub. I help her off the ground, her skin is cold and slick with sweat. Her head droops. My stomach is in knots. We make it to the bedroom. I pull back the sheets and help her into bed. She is shivering. “I’m going to go make you a cup of tea,” I go over to the grocery bag and pull out the chamomile I bought. I microwave a mug of water and put the tea bag in, no honey. I hand her the mug.

“I used to be better at this,” she murmurs.

“What?”

“These missions. Until Chantilly, I was really good. No problems. Just do my job and leave.” She stares at the darkening water of the tea. “I was better at detaching myself. Now it just sits in the back of my head, this knowledge that I’m not reacting like I should. It hadn’t occurred to me, until that mission, that what I was doing wasn’t normal.” The mug begins to tilt, tea sloshing onto the comforter. I take the mug gently from her hand, preventing any more from spilling.

“Can I do anything?”

“I’m sorry I was cruel,” her face is almost ashen, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced. Before last night, it must have been days since she slept. “I am still trying to,” she trials off, her train of thought seeming to detour. Her gaze slipping away. I go over to the first aid kit and pull out a bottle of Ambien.

“You should sleep,” I offer her a pill. She takes the bottle and grabs two more. She takes a sip of the tea to swallow the pills. Her eyes begin to blink closed. She’s asleep.

That evening I make pasta and eat dinner. I go over the the blueprints and seating arrangements of the conference again. In the morning, Natasha is still asleep. I know there will be hell to pay later, but I don’t wake her up and head out the door.

The head of security, who I know now is Runner, is furious.

“What do you mean she isn’t here?”

“She is on a conference call with the other Avengers,” I explain.

“How is that more important than this?”

“There is an imminent threat that required her input. I’m sorry that is an inconvenience for you,” I try to channel the iciness she uses. I let my eyes flash red and he backs down. I take my position on the floor from yesterday with Cheeto Fingers. The morning is boring, just a flood of statistics. I am relieved when we break for lunch. My feet ache from stand in one place.

I join my new friend for lunch, I should learn his name, on the back steps with sandwiches. I check my phone, no angry texts from Natasha. She must still be asleep. She is going to be so mad at me.

“Why don’t you have a gun?” he asks, leaning back.

“I don’t need it,” I hold out my hand in front of me and show him the red pulses that flicker from my fingers.

“So what you can what, like control energy?”

“It’s neuro-electric interfacing, telekinesis, and,” I hesitate to add mental manipulation, “And that’s it.”

“That is so cool.” He sighs.

“Party’s over kids, time to head back inside,” Runner pokes his head out.

I follow Cheeto Fingers back to our spot on the wall. The room quickly fills back up. A peaceful protester from Iran begins to speak at the front of the hall. Cheeto steps away the wall and begins to talk to me, blocking my view of the room. As I am about to tell him to move out of the way, he slumps forward, crashing into me. I fall back against the curtains. My head smacks the brick behind them and for a moment I am dazed. He has me pinned to the ground. I roll him off of me and see that I am covered in his blood, while his eyes are wide open. He is dead. I stand up and see the room is in chaos. There are people screaming, the protester is dead on the stage. So is Hawley, a bullet in her forehead. I power up, looking for someone to fight. There is a sharp pain on my ribs. I have been shot, the bullet proof vest taking most of the impact, but my ribs will most definitely be bruised. There is a flash bang. A distraction. The shooting has stopped.

There is a hissing sound. I look down and see a bomb of some kind at my feet, smoke pooling out of it. I use my powers to contain it, but it doesn’t explode. I look around the room is and see it is filling with smoke, other grenades leaking the same substance. There are no windows for me to break for the chemical to escape. I begin to cough. The smoke is so thick I can’t see in front of me. This is just a distraction for an escape, just like the flash-bang. They already got their target.

I crawl to the ground, hoping the smoke will be thinner. It isn’t. tilt to the side, my elbows and knees no longer able to support me. My face brushes again the rough carpet. I can’t stay here, I will die. I was near a wall. Which was near an exit. I force myself off the floor and find the door. It won’t open. I shove harder. It is locked from the outside. I try to use my powers to blast it open, but no powers come. I throw myself against the door again. My shoulder will be very sore after this. By the fifth shove, I am out of energy and oxygen. I can’t hear anyone else. I feel myself getting tired. My eyes are heavy, my movements lethargic. I can’t fall asleep. I feel a surge of power, my eyes glowing, but it quickly dies out. I lean against the door and slide to the ground. There is a bang on the other side of the door. I fall backwards as it opens, but someone catches me and drags me backwards. I cough and try to get the fresh air into my lungs. My rescuer rubs my back. They try to slip an oxygen mask over my face. I brush them off and stand up.

“Wanda, you need to get oxygen.” Natasha. I shake my head and feel myself waking up. I shatter all the nearby windows and the smoke begins to dissipate. “I called in the team, they’re on their way. Sit down,” she puts the mask back over my face and runs in to help everyone else. I take a few deep breaths and follow her in. Everyone is coughing and gagging, rubbing their eyes. “Do you ever follow instructions?” She snaps. “And don’t think we aren’t talking about this morning,” We survey the damage. Only four people are dead. Whoever attacked could have killed everyone in this room, instead they only took out four officials. Every security guard seems to be dead. This was a hit.

Local authorities begin to flood the space, paramedics giving everyone oxygen. Natasha drags me out of the room.

“Do you know how lucky you are that I got here when I did?” She pushes me down onto a bench.

“When did you get here?”

“About ten seconds before you got shot! Why do you think the bullet hit your vest and not your head? I was in the middle of slicing the guy’s throat!” She is furious. “Why didn’t you wake me up? What were you thinking? Running this operation alone! Are you that cocky? That sure of your abilities?”

“I’m sorry, I wanted you to rest,” I look down, “You’re always taking care of me, I thought I could return the favor,” She pauses, I can see her trying to calm down.

“Wanda, you are sixteen. You shouldn’t be worried about taking care of anyone. I am sorry I put you in a position where you thought you had to.”

“No, Nat,”

“You let your feelings get in the way of a mission, and that is never okay. I was completely capable of coming in this morning and you made a bad call.”

“No.” I say boldly, raising my chin.

“No?”

“No. You are wrong, you were not capable of coming in,” Her eyes darken and I can feel my confidence waver, but I push through, “And you’re allowed to not be okay. You are just a person.”

“I am a weapon first, you would do well to remember that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting to the end of this fic!! Right now, in terms of the timeline, we are about six weeks away from the start of Silenced!  
> Can’t wait to hear what you thought of this chapter!  
> I also have an update for you all regarding the next part of the series! Parts 4 & 5 will be posted at the same time, like parts 1 & 3  
> Part 4: POV Natasha and Wanda, starting August 2017  
> Part 5: POV Natasha, 2006-2010 (Would it make more sense to have this become part 1?)  
> The two parts will interact sometimes, much like how Lost references Welcome Home.  
> I can’t wait for you all to read what comes next! Thank you all for following along!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *******Trigger warning: mentions of past attempted underage noncon*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay, I have had some SERIOUS writer's block on this chapter, which is why it is a bit short! Not entirely pleased with it, but the next (and last) two chapters are almost ready to go! So wild how far this story has come! Thank you all for following along! I cannot wait for you to read parts 4 & 5!!

“Do you know much damage control we are going to have to do?” Tony roars. We are in a smaller conference room at the convention center. I sink down into the leather seat. “We have four very high-profile people dead, along with how many security guards?” He turns to Natasha.  
“Eighteen.”  
“Jesus Christ,” Tony runs his fingers through his hair.  
“To be fair to Wanda, I don’t think Natasha being there would have made much of a difference. There were at least ten terrorists.” I shoot Steve a thankful glance.  
“They’re running facial recognition on the guy Nat killed,” Sam steps into the room, “Right now, its looking like a North Korean group.”  
“Fantastic, so we have World War III on our hands thanks to Sabrina the Teenage Witch?”  
“Like you have never made a bad call!” I snap back.  
“Wanda, you are in no place to argue right now,” Natasha warns.  
“Wait, why _weren’t_ you here?” Tony asks.  
“I was sick and overslept; Wanda didn’t wake me up.”  
“You get sick?” Sam raises his eyebrows. Steve looks at Nat for a beat too long and I see something shift in her eyes.  
“I am heading out. Will you be fine without me?”  
“You can’t leave!” Tony groans, “We have to do press and,”  
“Well the only people who knew that I was a no show are either dead or in this room. We can just say it was a bad hit,”  
“Natasha,” Steve tries.  
“I need some space.” She practically sprints out of the room.  
“Where is she going?” Tony turns to me.  
“Probably Clint’s,” I sigh.  
“I sent Vision to collect your things, you all head back to the jet. I’ll deal with this fiasco.”  
I trail behind Steve as we make our way up the walkway into the quinjet. Vision and Sam are deep in conversation as they pilot the plane.  
“We’ve all made bad calls before, Wanda. It’s a part of the job,” Steve offers.  
“I am so benched,”  
“Oh, for sure,” Steve agrees, “One-month suspension.” I sink down into my seat.

Suspension, it turns out, is worse than bedrest. With bedrest, I can’t physically do anything, but now, I could very well be helping out and being productive. I have taken to Instagram, now amassing thirty million followers and counting. I scroll through the discover page and pause at a picture. This is the third time this masked kid has shown up on my feed. He wears a red suit and is swinging between buildings. He calls himself Spider-Man, according to the post. I wonder if Tony’s watchdog algorithms have picked him up yet. For the past six days, it had just been me and Steve on the compound. It felt empty and quiet. I had taken to eating meals in my room as Steve spent most of his time in his office. Natasha is yet to return home. My stomach twists with guilt. This is all my fault. I send a text to Laura.  
_Hi Laura, checking in on Nat. How is she? Tell Clint I said hi._ I wait anxiously for a reply, watching the dots at the bottom of the screen.  
_Hi Wanda, she is good. Came in late last night. Give the team our best_. Late last night? Where has she been for the past week? I want to ask for more information, but I give Natasha her space. There is a knock on the door.  
“Come in,” I call out. Vision phases through the wall. I can’t help but laugh, his presence lifting my spirits.  
“Wanda, it is good to see you,”  
“You too, Viz.” I hug him close. The android’s chin rests on my head.  
“How are you doing?”  
“Fine. I still feel guilty,” I admit. He nods.  
“You made a mistake; it is natural to feel as though the burden is on your shoulders. But you were not the only security there.”  
“I guess,”  
“Would you like to watch a movie?” he suggests, “I am available for the rest of the evening.”  
“You can’t stay any longer?”  
“Unfortunately, Mr. Stark requires my presence in Japan.”  
“Well then we will have to make the most of our time together.” I sigh. We put on a movie and I snuggle up to him on the bed. It is oddly comforting, the lack of heartbeat. Feeling bold, I roll over on the bed, straddling Vision. The mind stone lights up.  
“What about the movie?”  
“Seriously, Viz?” I quirk up and eyebrow. He pulls me back down and I press my lips against his. I run my hands up his chest, pulling off the polo. He pulls off my t-shirt in turn. I feel his hand stroke my thigh. Electricity courses through my body. My heart is pounding. My breath comes in quick gasps. I scramble back, hitting my head on the wall.  
“Fuck,” I rub the back of my head.  
“Wanda?”  
“I’m sorry, I thought,”  
“Did I do something wrong?”  
“No, I just,” I frown. Compared to what Nat went through on her missions, what happened to me was nothing. It never even went that far. “I thought I was ready, I’m sorry.” He nods.  
“If you are not ready then we will wait.” I lie back down next to him, guilt eating at me. I should be okay. It has been months. I should be fine now.  
He is gone in the morning. I feel no less guilty for being a tease. The compound is back to feeling empty, and despite the space, it feels suffocating. I leave Steve a note and head into New York City. Does benched include grounded? I will find out tonight when I get home. The train ride to the city is short, only lasting an hour. People brush up against me in the train terminal and I rush to escape Grand Central. I end up in Central Park. The hot, humid air of mid-July is thick and muggy. I am leaning back on a park bench when I see him. He swings between two buildings, his red suit standing out against the gray buildings. I sprint after him. He slips into an alley and I head down. Spiderman has removed his mask.  
“Hi,” I gasp, out of breath. I am shocked to see he is my age, maybe younger. The panic on his face is evident. He scrambles to pull his mask back on. “I’ve already seen your face, there is no point in putting that on. It must be a hundred degrees out here.”  
“So, are you going to blackmail me or something into not giving away my identity?” he takes off the suit, shoving it in his backpack.  
“What? No, why would I do that?” I frown, this isn’t going how I planned.  
“What do you mean why?” He shoulders his backpack.  
“You don’t recognize me?” I take a deep breath and let my eyes glow red.  
“Holy crap, you’re Scarlet Witch!” he scrambles forward, extending his hand. “Peter Parker, it’s an honor,” he shakes my hand vigorously.  
“Nice to meet you Peter,” I grin, “So you’re Spider-man?”  
“You know who Spider-man is?” he sputters.  
“You’re all over Instagram,” I explain. “Want to get lunch?” He follows me into a nearby sandwich shop, the air conditioning offering a nice reprieve. We order and sit down at a table; my legs stick to the plastic bench.  
“This might be the craziest moment of my life,” he stares, “Wanda Maximoff just bought me a sandwich.”  
“So, you’re Spider-Man?”  
“Yes, so sorry about that in the alley, I have to be careful, secret identity and all that,” I want to say that he is absolutely terrible at hiding his identity as it took me less than five minutes to find out who he is, but that seems like a bad way to start a potential friendship.  
“What is it like being an Avenger? Do you know everyone? Like Captain America? And Ironman? And Black Widow?”  
“Yes, I live with them.” I take a sip of my lemonade.  
“That is wild. Tony Stark saved my life once, back when I was a kid. My Uncle Ben took me to the Stark Expo, did you go to that?”  
“I lived in Sokovia at the time,” I say diplomatically.  
“It was amazing, this robot was about to kill me and then bam, he came out of nowhere!”  
“How did you become Spider-man?” I ask, intrigued.  
“So, you know how Dr. Banner turned into the Hulk with radioactivity? I got bit by a radioactive spider. Suddenly I have super strength and I am really sticky and fast. And I heal fast too.”  
“And the webs?”  
“Oh, I make those.”  
“You really commit to a theme, huh?” I tease. He blushes. “How do you make the webs?”  
“It is just this simple chemical compound really.” He leans forward, “So what is Mr. Stark really like? Is he just as smart as he seems? Have you ever been inside an Ironman suit? What are missions like?” he fires question after question, hardly taking a breath.  
“How old are you?”  
“Fifteen,” he holds his head up in a false bravado. “But I have been told I am very mature for my age.”  
“You should meet with Tony,”  
“Meet Mr. Stark? Like in real life?”  
“Where else would you meet him?” I laugh.  
“This is insane,”  
“I will put you on his radar. It might take a little while for him to reach out, but I promise I can make it happen.” I feel almost giddy. It is nice to be able to pay it forward, to find another enhanced to help out like how the Avengers took me in.

Over the next few days, I steal every newspaper that Steve gets in the mail, checking for articles about Spider-man. There is one from the New York times with him on the cover. I place it onto Tony’s workstation with a few other magazines. Tony needs to think this is his idea. I skip back upstairs and into the kitchen, thrilled with my ingenuity, when I run straight into the fridge door. I land on my back, winded, and rub my nose. When I open my eyes, I see an amused Natasha looking down at me, carton of juice in hand.  
“You should watch where you’re going.”  
“You’re back!” I scramble off the ground. It has been almost two weeks since I had seen her. She has a new scar on her cheek that has already begun to fade.  
“I’m back,” she echoes, setting the juice on the counter. She pours us each a glass, handing me one.  
“I’m sorry, I really am sorry.” I sit down at the counter, “I wrote condolence letters to everyone’s family members, and sent flowers to every funeral.” She looks up, “Don’t worry, I didn’t mention anything, just that we were sorry for their loss.” I run my finger on the rim of the glass.  
“Let’s take a walk,” she suggests. I follow her out to the grounds; the air is refreshing compared to the heat wave that occurred last month. We reach a bench near the lake and Natasha sits down. I scramble to do the same. “I talked to Vision yesterday.”  
“Why?” I look over, my forehead wrinkling.  
“I had been on the phone with Tony discussing a mission for next week and Vision ask to speak with me. He seems worried about you.”  
“Oh, I’m fine.” I feel my neck getting hot and blotchy. “Maybe we should go swimming,” I stand up. Natasha pulls me back down, much gentler than she had been in the conference room.  
“Wanda,”  
“I can’t believe he would talk to you about our sex life!” I exclaim.  
“He didn’t,” she smirks, mirth twinkling in her eyes. I think I am going to melt into a puddle of embarrassment, right here.  
“Oh,” I squeak. She looks at me, the humor in her eyes morphing into concern,  
“He said you were on edge and had a flashback,”  
“Oh,” I repeat.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head. “Why?”  
“Because it is nothing compared to what you’ve gone through.” I play with the hem of my t-shirt, scared to meet her gaze.  
“That’s not fair,” Natasha tilts my head up gently. “You aren’t being fair to yourself, Wanda.”  
“But you have had a lot of worse things happen to you! I have one little mishap and,”  
“First off, that was not one little mishap. You were kidnapped, _twice_ , and were seriously injured both times.”  
“That was months ago!” I interrupt.  
“You can’t be better overnight, that isn’t how life works. You don’t wake up one day completely fine. Life is not a TV show where after the episode ends there are no repercussions. You have gone through so much in this past year, you need to give yourself a break.” I want to point out the hypocrisy of her statement, but am not given the chance, “And second, you can never compare one person’s suffering to another. It is impossible,” she takes a deep breath, “It’s easy for the team and I to forget you’re a kid. You’ve gone through a lot, you’re tough and smart. You are an invaluable asset to the team, but you are sixteen. I put a lot on your in Switzerland, even if I didn’t mean to. And that wasn’t fair. You were right that I wasn’t ready for that mission. I should have called in a replacement, but I let my pride get in the way.” For the first time in this conversation, Natasha is lying. From what I could tell during our time in Geneva, she wasn’t operating out of pride, but based on survival instincts. But I say nothing. “You and I are going to have to communicate better, okay? If we’re going to be on a team, we have to tell the other what’s going on,”  
“I have a distinct feeling this is more one-sided,”  
“You are such a brat,” she teases, nudging me.  
“I want to make it right, Nat. I want to stop that group and figure out why they killed Hawley and the others.”   
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The set up for the finale! We are almost there, I am a little sad that this part of the fic is coming to an end. I hope you have all enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it! Thank you again for the always wonderful feedback!  
> Next chapter will be up by Wednesday!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 23! The fact that this fic is about to come to a close is so bittersweet!  
> Next chapter will be up in a few days 😊  
> Thank you all for following along and for your amazing support! Enjoy!  
> 

Steve stands at the head of the conference table with Natasha to his right. Sam and I lean over the blueprints that they drew up. It has been three weeks since the attack. There are red x’s for the four slain dignitaries, eighteen black ones for the security guards. The entire operation took less than thirty seconds to execute. They moved with militant efficiency.  
“Hawley makes sense. South Korea’s defense minister and the Germany’s minister of foreign affairs also makes sense. The peaceful protester from Iran, she’s an outlier,” Natasha points to the stage.  
“What if she wasn’t the target?” I offer.  
“They didn’t make any other mistakes, why would we assume they did here?”  
“Because they did make a mistake. After Natasha killed one of the men, no one tried to take me out again, or tried to get Natasha. They could have. Instead they tried to escape. They were in a rush. They gave themselves thirty seconds, no more.”  
“Then who were they trying to shoot?” I look at wear the protester was on stage at the moment she was shot. She was near the front left, a seat directly in front of her.  
“Whoever was sitting here,” I point to the last seat on the horseshoe.  
“That would be the current president of the UN Security Council,” Natasha states from memory. Sam is typing quickly into his computer.  
“They were all scheduled to meet in South Korea last week to discuss how much of a threat North Korea poses.”  
“They can just send different representatives, whoever fills the role,” Steve points out.  
“I think it was more about sending a message,” Natasha looks down. “Even at an event to promote world peace, those fighting to make it a reality face death.”  
“Who was the president of the Security Council this month?” I look around the table.  
“The US Ambassador to the UN, and his increased security detail ended thirty-six hours ago.” Natasha stands up, “We have to get to D.C.”  
“Why? The UN headquarters are in New York.” Sam closes his laptop.  
“He’s in D.C. for his daughter’s birthday,” Natasha jogs out of the room. We race to follow her.  
“How do you know that? Is no one else wondering why she knows that?” Sam huffs. Neither Steve nor I have an answer for him. We board the quinjet and Natasha pilots. Her mouth is drawn in a hard line, Natasha is nervous. The ride to DC is quick, no more than twenty minutes. The quinjet lands in the suburb of Alexandria outside a large brick house. Cars dot the street and fill up the driveway. There are pink balloons tied to the mailbox. Top 40 pop music comes from the backyard. Neighbors peak their heads out from front doors, while others quickly pull curtains shut. Natasha’s frown deepens as we reach the back gate. There’s no sounds of children’s laughter and squealing. No chatter from adults. She pushes open the gate, gun drawn. Her weapon is quickly lowered, and we are waved in.  
Instead of a party, we walked into a massacre. There are at least two dozen people dead, half of them children. Sam turns to the side and vomits.  
“I’m going to go call this in,” Steve hurries out of the backyard, eager to get away from the scene. Natasha walks over to the bodies, looking at each one, completely void of emotion. Vincent Chambers, the ambassador, is dead. Next to him is a child wearing a shirt that says _Birthday Girl_ in glittery letters.  
“They certainly got their message across; I didn’t expect them to be so brazen.” She looks up and seems to realize for the first time that she isn’t alone. “Why are you still back here?” she snaps. I turn and see Sam left with Cap. It is just the two of us.  
“You shouldn’t have to do this alone,” I step forward, pushing down my nausea.  
“I can do it, I am fine.”  
“I know. But just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” She nods, the closest I will get to a thank you. But it is enough. We begin to take pictures of the scene to run analytics on later. I can hear sirens in the distance. Soon, the backyard will be crawling with cops. “Natasha,”  
“Hush,” she freezes, and draws her gun once again. I watch her six as she walks towards the pink bouncy castle, still inflated. She peers inside and drops her gun on the ground. I am shocked when she climbs inside.  
“Natasha?”  
“One second,” her voice is calm and happy. “Hey Wanda, there is a pinata out there, right?”  
“Yes?”  
“Do you see the blindfold they were going to use?” I walk over to the candy filled cardboard pony and see a hot pink scarf.  
“Found it,”  
“Could you bring it in here? We’re going to play a game,” she says lightly. What the hell is she talking about? I step carefully into the moon bounce and immediately understand. A little boy is sitting in the corner. He stares at me fearfully. “This is my friend Wanda, she is going to join the game, is that okay?” He nods. “Okay Roger, are you ready to play?” Natasha asks. “I am going to tie this around your eyes, and you have to promise not to peak. Then we are going to leave the castle, as we are leaving, I want you to tell me all about the party, okay? And once I say it is okay, we can take off the blindfold and you will get your prize.”  
“I get to meet Captain America?”  
“Right! But only if you follow the rules,” Natasha smiles at the boy. I hand her the scarf and she ties it around his head. “Okay can you see anything?”  
“No,” Natasha scoops up the boy, he can’t be older than five. We climb out of the inflatable and walk through the backyard. “My mom dropped me off for Kiley’s birthday party. But I don’t like Kiley, so I hid in the bouncy house when they were singing happy birthday,” he explains.  
“What happened after that?” Natasha prompts, stepping over a body.  
“They started using those poppers that you throw on the ground when the song ended,” That was their signal to initiate? That is twisted. “Then people started screaming and I didn’t want to come out, then you got here.”  
“How many songs played before we got here?” Natasha asks as we make our way to the gate. The police sirens are getting closer.  
“Two songs,” he replies. We reach the front yard. Steve and Sam look over from the quinjet. “Is the game over, Nat?”  
“Yes, you can take of your mask, Roger.” The little boy pulls it off and look around, his eyes landing on Steve. He hops down.  
“Captain America! I won the game! I get to meet you,” he rushes forward, “I was named after you,” he says proudly. Sam walks over to us, clearly embarrassed.  
“Sorry for running out, I just wasn’t expecting,”  
“I know, its okay,” Natasha is surprisingly empathetic.  
“You’re good with kids,” he offers. I can see where this conversation is going and want to avoid another incident like the boat.  
“Did you guys talk to the neighbors?”  
“No one heard or saw anything,”  
“The kid said there was screaming,” Natasha crosses her arms. “Someone had to hear something,”  
“We should leave that up to law enforcement, some people might not want to talk about seeing a massacre in their neighbors yard, especially when the guys who did it are still out there.”  
The police arrive on the scene and take the little boy into custody after a conversation with Natasha.  
“We were six minutes too late,” she leans back in her seat on the quinjet, Sam insisting on flying home. “Six minutes and none of those people would have died.”  
“We got there as fast as we could. We didn’t even change into our uniforms,” Steve points out, gesturing to the fact that we are all in either jeans or sweatpants. “It was a bad hit,”  
“It is my fault,” she snaps and goes over to controls, kicking Sam out of his seat.

I knock on the door to Natasha’s room, bouncing on one foot to the other. She was silent at dinner, barely touching the tacos Steve made.  
“Come in,” I open the door and see her at her desk, cleaning her favorite gun.  
“Are you okay?”  
“Fine.”  
“You didn’t seem fine at dinner. You know it wasn’t you fault, right?”  
“If I had figured it out six minutes faster, none of them would be dead.”  
“That little boy would have had to see all that death if we hadn’t gotten there in time. No one else figured it out. You did.” But I know it’s pointless. We tried to convince her on the quinjet. “We’ll catch them.”  
“How do you stop a country, Wanda? We aren’t an army. On a good day we’re six very overconfident people.”  
“If anyone can figure it out, its you.” Her eyes soften.  
“Thanks, Little Witch,”  
“You’re monitoring the radios tonight, right?” She nods and goes back to cleaning her gun, ending the conversation.  
That evening, I join her in front of the monitors with two cups of coffee and a plate of brownies.  
“Did you make these?” Natasha asks, taking another bite.  
“Do you like them?”  
“Delicious, you’ll make a much better stakeout partner than Clint is. He one brought half a baked potato. That’s it.” I laugh, trying to imagine the scene. “Granted, he was in the middle of a dinner date with Laura and got called away, but seriously man, bring the whole potato,” Natasha rolls her eyes and I am laughing so hard it hurts. Nat’s smile slips away, staring back at the monitors.  
“Do you miss him?”  
“Yes,” she looks like she is about to say more but changes her mind.  
“Training tomorrow?” I suggest, settling deeper into my spinning office chair.  
“You want to train after staying up all night staring at a computer?”  
“Only way to get better,” I grin. She gives a nod in approval, her smile returning the littlest bit.  
For the next few weeks, everyone slips into an uncomfortable routine. We switch off nights monitoring computers and airwaves, searching for any activity. Four incidents so far, all of which we were minutes too late. I duck under a tree branch, trying race ahead of Sam. Natasha and Steve are already miles ahead of us on the cross-country run. The crisp September mornings have made training outside much more enjoyable.  
“On your left,” I huff, blazing past him.  
“Yeah, that’s easy! Must be nice being enhanced!” He calls out, pausing for breath. I laugh, continuing my run. It never occurred to me that there could be other parts of me that are enhanced. Like Steve and Nat, and the Winter Soldier. The only person enhanced like me was Pietro. Could I be smarter and faster because of it? Will I age slower like them? I had aged normally up until this point. But Natasha said she stopped at eighteen. My foot gets caught and I go sprawling forward, my face landing in a pile of damp leaves.  
“Fuck,” I moan, holding my ankle.  
“Hey kid, you okay?” Sam runs up. I bite my lip, irritated.  
“Got my foot caught,” Even more embarrassing is the fact that I was thinking about how I might be, on par with Cap and Nat. “Taken down a tree.”  
“We should get some ice on that.” Sam helps me of the ground and I through my arm over his shoulders.  
“What happened?” Natasha and Steve jog over, just breaking a sweat.  
“I fell, I’m fine.”  
“You are not the judge of that,”  
I lie down on the couch in the living room. She pulls off my right sneaker and sock, and I can see it already becoming puffy and red.  
“Definitely a sprain.” Natasha frowns, with much more seriousness than the injury requires.  
“Oh no. We’re going to have to amputate. Might need to take the whole leg,” I joke.  
“I think up to the knee would be fine,” she replies, playing along, “But in all honesty, I think you need to stay off it for at least the week the rest of the week,”  
“The week? But what if something happens? What if you need me?”  
“We’ll survive a few days, Wanda. It isn’t as if we’ve been encountering much combat.”  
“But,”  
“I can always make one week two,” she offers.  
“Fine.” I cross my arms, pouting. She wraps my foot and hands me an icepack while I watch TV.  
Sam joins for a little while, drinking a protein shake. I yawn, exhausted from monitoring with Natasha last night. She did it with Sam the night before when Steve was called away with a health emergency for Peggy. Thankfully, it was a false alarm. Nonetheless, Natasha must be exhausted.  
“Where’s Nat?”  
“Sparring with Steve. I swear, those two could for days.”  
“Almost like they’re super soldiers or something.”  
“I always forget Nat has a version of the serum.”  
“That’s the point, what good is an obvious spy,” she sneaks up behind us.  
“Jesus,” Sam jumps.  
“Come on, we’ve been called in. Activity in Belgium.” Sam climbs off the couch, stretching. “Vision will be here in an hour,”  
“You’re sending my boyfriend to babysit me?” I groan.  
“No, we can't leave you alone if the North Koreans come. It was him or Fury." She raises her eyebrows in amusement. “I was very, very, close to asking for Fury." she laughs, "But if this is like any of the other leads, we’ll be back by dinner.”  
They aren’t back by dinner. Vision lies next to me in bed. With the windows open, we hope to be able to hear when they arrive. Peepers by the lake chirp into the night. Paired with the crickets, we are given our own orchestra.  
“They will be home soon, I am sure.” I bite my cheek, checking my phone again. The last text I have is an update from Natasha that they landed in Brussels. After that, everything I send to the team goes unread.  
“What if they’ve been killed?”  
“We would have been notified. Perhaps the jet needed servicing," he offers. I nod noncommittally and crane my head to kiss him.   
"Thank you for being here. You're much better than Fury."   
"You have relations with Director Fury?" Vision asks in alarm.   
"What?" I laugh, "No! Natasha almost asked Fury here instead of you." Vision relaxes back down on the bed.   
Around sunrise, Vision wakes me gently. I roll over, pulling the pillow over my head. It must not even be six yet.  
“Wanda, the quinjet just landed on the lawn.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peepers are a type of frog found in the North East. They are extremely loud and can definitely keep you up at night!! But they are also a true sign of summer and spring around here! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed and appreciated! :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! The last for Welcome Home! Thank you all so much for following along and loving the characters as much as I do. Your comments mean the world to me and this fic would be no where near where it is now without all of your support!

I jump up at his words, ignoring the pain in my ankle. The slider to the back of the compound squeaks as I pull it open and my bare feet sink into the dewy grass. Vision stands beside me, a hand resting reassuringly on my shoulder. The gangplank to the quinjet drops down. Sam steps out first, looking worse for wear. His uniform is ripped, but beyond a few bruises he appears uninjured.  
“Are you okay? Where’s Natasha? And Steve?” I ask, craning my neck.  
“Wanda,” Sam starts, but Steve emerges from the quinjet with a bundle in his arms. Her bright red hair is stark against his blue suit.  
“What happened? Is she okay?” I run forward and Vision holds me back.  
“I think perhaps we ought to let Captain Rogers bring her inside.” I tear away from him and race after Steve. My wet feet slide on the hardwood floors as I run inside.  
“Kid, stop,” Sam pulls my arm. I turn around and he jumps back, “Okay, calm down. No one is trying to hurt you or Natasha.” He puts his arms up, backing away further. I look down and seem my hands are glowing. I try to calm down, to let the powers die out. “Deep breaths, yeah?” I do as he suggests until I feel my powers dim. “Good,” Sam collapses onto the couch.  
“What happened? Why did Steve have to carry her in?”  
“We got there just as they were leaving. Nat didn’t want them to get away, she chased after them as they were boarding their helicopter. Steve and I, we wanted to help but there were two people injured. We were keeping pressure on their wounds, we couldn’t stop,” Sam sounds so defeated.  
“What happened?” I repeat.  
“She got into the helicopter as it was taking off. Killed everyone inside, but someone set off a bomb to detonate, it blew up as she was jumping out. Threw off her balance when she tried to land one of those rolling tumble things she does,” Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, “She hit her head on the concrete,”  
“She’s going to be fine,” Steve says confidently, walking out of Natasha’s room.  
“Steve,” Sam says gently.  
“Trust me, she’ll be fine,” he says again, this time looking at me. “She was conscious on the quinjet for a little while. She’s sleeping now.”  
“But she’s okay?” I confirm.  
“She’s got a nasty concussion, but yes, she’s okay.”  
I make a pot of coffee for everyone and say goodbye to Vision before heading into Natasha’s room. Steve pulled down the blackout shades, shuttering the room in complete darkness. The only light comes from the bathroom where the light was left on. She is still covered in soot and blood, though it does look like they did their best to clean it off. Despite the fact that I know she is asleep, how lifeless she looks terrifies me. I sip my coffee and wait, reading some of her books. I find that about a quarter of them house weapons. I begin to work through a book on close quarters combat.  
“Little Witch?” I look up from the book, a smile making its way onto my face.  
“Natasha,”  
“Why are you here? You’re supposed to be back in New York,”  
“We’re in New York, you guys got in a few hours ago.” She nods slowly. “Can I get you anything? Water?”  
“That would be,” she cuts herself off and scrambles out of bed, staggering to the bathroom. She comes out a few minutes later, slick with sweat. I offer to help her back to bed, but she waves me off.  
“Are you okay?”  
“I’ll be fine in a day or two,” she murmurs, crawling back under the covers. “Just don’t get yourself killed while I’m out of commission,”  
“I’ll try my best,”

The next day, Steve gets called out to a meeting in Berlin with Tony, Vision, and Rhodey. After checking the monitors for activity and eating lunch, Sam tries to teach me poker at the dining table.  
“But I could just read your mind and you wouldn’t even know. I would just win,”  
“Yes, but that is cheating. It defeats the purpose of the game.”  
“I thought the purpose was to win money,” I raise my eyebrows.   
“Yes, but,”  
“Sam, you picked the worst person on the team to play poker with,” Natasha steps into the kitchen. She has dark circles under her eyes and looks pale.  
“Should you be up?” he asks, abandoning the card game.  
“I am fine, you are just as bad as Clint.” Natasha pulls a green smoothie out of the fridge. She closes her eyes, gripping the counter for a moment. “I’m good, really.” She takes a deep breath and opens them once more. “I should go monitor the computers,”  
“Natasha, you hit your head insanely hard. You should go back to bed.” She shoots him a glare and leaves the common area. He looks over to me, “You have any ideas on how to get her back to bed?”  
“I’ll go talk to her,” I offer.  
I find Natasha in front of a computer monitor, the brightness all the way down. A radio beeps intermittently next to her.  
“You shouldn’t be on that foot,” she points out without turning around.  
“You shouldn’t be out bed,” I reply, sitting down next to her.  
“We need to shut down this operation.”  
“I know, we’re trying. You’re trying harder than anyone.”  
“But we aren’t doing enough,”  
“Natasha, you almost died,”  
“I didn’t, but fourteen children did. Because I wasn’t fast enough,”  
“You’re only human,”  
“But I’m not. I’m enhanced. I should be better,” She stops to rub her eyes.  
“If I monitor the computers, will you sleep, or at least rest?”  
“Fine,” She pushes her chair away and I roll mine forwards. I look over to her, “I’ll rest really,” She leans her head onto the arm of the chair. Within minutes, she’s asleep. A few hours later, Sam switches out with me. Then I back with him. The computers remain blank, radios silent. I take a sip of my coffee.  
The phone rings. Before I can get it, Natasha is already taking it off the receiver, though she was asleep just moments before.  
“Okay, yes. Okay.” She nods, “Okay, we’ll be there ASAP.” She hangs up the phone and smiles at me with triumph. “We’ve got a lead.”  
The three of us board the quinjet, Natasha piloting.  
“Should you even be going on this mission? Either of you?” Sam looks between us.  
“It isn’t like there is anyone else to do it, and it seemed pretty time sensitive,” she snaps.  
“It’s just that you,”  
“We have to stop them, Sam.” Natasha says softly, but with such conviction, it is impossible to argue.

* * *

  
We touch down in South Korea. The air is crisp and dry. As we disembark, a group of military officials greet us. It is impossible to ignore their disapproving gazes.  
“Where is the rest of your team?”  
“They will be here soon. We were available immediately and it sounded pretty urgent,” Natasha crosses her arms, glaring at the general. The four missing team members are at least six hours out, finishing talks in Germany.  
“We need Mr. Stark,” the general insists.  
“ _Mr. Stark_ will be here later. For now, you have us. We would be happy to leave. It isn’t like you pay us. We could be home but instead we are helping your sorry asses.” I grimace. The general looks as though he may shoot us. Natasha is never this mouthy, not even with Tony. “However, I am a very good with computers and would be happy to assist _your_ team.”  
“Very well. Follow me.” He shows us to the operation room. There are no other employees in sight. “I will send our scientists down in an hour after our meeting,” He closes the door behind us. I look over at Natasha, she is still fuming.  
“What was that about?” Sam asks.  
“It was just like Geneva all over again,” Natasha begins looking around.  
“Nat, you did not react like that in Geneva,” I frown.  
“I just don’t do well with disrespect,” She doesn’t look over at us.  
“Yeah, I got that, what was it really about?” Sam persists.  
“I killed his brother,” Nat rolls her eyes while Sam and I stop dead in our tracks.  
“You killed his brother?” I confirm, unbelieving.  
“It was about ten or so years ago, before I worked for SHIELD. He was my target.” She begins to examine the space, flicking on computers, “Why do you two looked so shocked? And it wasn’t like he was a good guy. He was in charge of a drug running operation that was causing some waves. I was tasked to take care of it.” There is definitely another part to the story that she isn’t sharing.  
“But you killed his brother,” Sam repeats.  
“How many men have you killed, Sam? I’m sure lots of them have brothers,” Natasha’s words cut like knives. “At least you had a choice on whether or not you pulled the trigger.” She sighs “Wanda, don’t give me the sad puppy eyes, I’m fine,” I purse my lips, I was _not_ doing that.  
“But Nat,”  
“We have work to do.” She sits down in front of one of the computers. “I wonder how imminent this threat really is.”  
“It seems pretty serious based on what you said on the plane. The chatter the radios that I heard on the way over seemed legit,”  
“I agree with Sam, I think we should take it seriously. And I think that this guy asking the Avengers for help, knowing you’re on the team, proves how bad it is,” She sighs in resignation.  
“Bring a chair over, I want you to watch what I’m doing,” I roll over one of the chairs and she begins to explain the process for hacking into North Korea’s internet server.  
“Where did you learn to do this?” Sam asks. “You know what, I think I’m going to stop asking you questions,”  
“I think that is a wonderful idea,” her lips quirk up into a smile. After two hours, we break through the firewall. The South Korean scientists still haven’t joined us. Sam had to leave, called away to something urgent happening in Afghanistan. It is just the two of us and the single computer, Natasha typing away. “You need to learn Korean; we should work on it once we finish Mandarin.”  
“I am never going to finish Mandarin, it is impossible.”  
“You said the same thing about Latin.” Her eyes are scanning pages of information. I can’t read this fast in Sokovian. Her hands still, no longer scrolling or typing.  
“What is it?”  
“The intel was wrong,” She pushes her chair away from her desk, sprinting towards the door and up the stairs.   
“What do you mean the intel was wrong?”  
“North Korea isn’t stealing missile plans next Thursday; they’re doing it this Thursday.”  
“But today is Thursday,” I run to keep up with her, my heart pounding. “The scientists were supposed to be down an hour ago,” We round the corner, running past a glass office. There are six bodies. One of them is the general’s.  
“We can’t let them leave the building with those plans.”  
“Too late,” I fling open the front doors of the building where a gang of men are sprinting towards a helicopter. I quickly blast it and it explodes, sending the closest of the men reeling back.  
“Good shot, Little Witch,” Suddenly, it seems like we are surrounded. There are at least twenty of them, and we are close enough to civilians that this could be a problem. If I unleash my powers, I could kill hundreds of innocent people. “Just like we practiced, you’ve got this.” I nod and we set to work. Each punch and kick is charged, causing maximum damage to every man. We dance through the battle, two against two dozen. I see Natasha get kicked in the ribs, but she grabs the man, quickly snapping his neck. She moves with the grace of a ballerina. Someone hits me in the back of the head as I focus on my front. Bullets are reining. I keep up pulses of a forcefield when I can. I can hear Natasha in my head, criticizing me for not watching my six.  
“Wanda, on your left!” That was not in my head. A knife goes soaring and embeds itself in the neck of a man who was coming towards me. I look over at Nat just in time to see a knife be dragged across her throat. Her eyes widen and everything slows. The general stands behind her, bloodied. One arm hangs limply, his eyes glassed over. I shoot him in the head with a blast, instantly killing him. The battle melts away as I rush towards Natasha. She sinks to the ground, clutching at her throat.  
“No, no, no.” I look over my shoulder. “No!” I push my hands out in front of me, killing the remaining North Korean troops. They all fall to the ground, their necks snapped at an unnatural angle. My vision tunnels and the only person I see it Natasha. I feel sick. She can’t die. “Nat, please stay with me. I can’t lose you too,” I look for something, anything to help and take off my jacket, pressing it to her throat, “You aren’t going to die. I promise, I am not going to let you die.” I pick her up, surprising by my own strength. Her arm slips from her throat as she loses consciousness. “No, please god no.” I tie my jacket around her throat, hoping it will at least slow the blood flow. My heart hammers in my chest. I don’t know what I am going to do. That is when I see it, the same building I went into with Ultron and Pietro to build his body. It’s Dr. Cho’s office. We are outside her practice. The machine is on the fifth floor. With a flick of my wrists, I shoot off the ground and shatter the window closest to where the machine was housed, hoping a replacement has made its way there. I stumble in, willing Natasha to hold on. I see the cradle. Quickly, I lie Natasha in it and try to figure out how to turn it on. “Come on, please.” I type quickly into the screens.  
“Wanda?”  
“Dr. Cho, help,” I sink to the ground. Her eyes glance momentarily to the cradle and she starts the machine.  
“I saw what happened outside, I went down and you were gone, how did you get up here?”  
“I broke your window, sorry,” I sob, but somehow it morphs into a laugh. I can’t lose her. This is all my fault. I should have been paying better attention. I put my hands on the back of my head and am surprised that when I pull away, my fingers are sticky with blood.  
“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay,” She stands up, “I’m going to go call Tony, we are going to do everything we can,”  
An hour later, Natasha codes. I sit with my back pressed up against the wall as Dr. Cho works to keep Natasha alive. I have killed her. I killed Natasha Romanoff.  
“Wanda?” Steve is crouched down in front of me. I don’t even know when he got here. “We’re going to take Nat home,”  
“She’s okay?” I look up at him, hope filling my chest.  
“We’re taking her home so everyone can say their goodbyes,” he whispers, his eyes downcast. I notice for the first time; the machine has stopped running.  
“What aren’t you running the machines?” I scramble over to the keypad, trying to turn it back on. Tony pulls me away.  
“She had a back reaction to it. Once her trachea was repaired, her body couldn’t take it anymore and began to reject the synthetic material.”  
“The trachea, that’s the most important part though, right?” I look between the two of them.  
“She lost a lot of blood, and there were other injuries. It’s time for us to say goodbye,”

I sit on the quinjet next to Natasha. She is on a hospital gurney, hooked up to every possible machine. I place my hand on her head and close my eyes. I feel it, flickering like a candle. She’s still there.  
“Wanda?”  
“She isn’t dead, Natasha’s alive. More than these machines,” I ramble, “She is alive, her brain is alive,”  
“Kid, I know that’s what you want,”  
“No! It’s true!” I glare at the two men. They walk away, leaving me with her. I sit back down next to Natasha, keeping vigil until we land.  
We arrive at the Avenger headquarters. I sit beside her in medical, waiting for a miracle. Waiting for the force of life I felt within her come to the surface. At some point, someone put gauze on the back of my head and gave me a cup of coffee. A hand lands on my shoulder. I look up and see Clint for the first time in nearly a year.  
“This is my fault.” I look to him for help, for guidance, for anything.  
“It is not your fault,” he squeezes my hand. “You saved her life from what Cap said.”  
“I put her life in danger. This is because of me.”  
“No, it isn’t. This is because of people whose actions you have no control over.” He sighs. He fiddles with something in his ear and I notice his hearing aids for the first time.  
“She isn’t dead,” I look at him and speak clearly, “I felt it and saw it, in her head. She’s still in there,” He looks at me sadly.  
“I hope you’re right, kid.”  
“I will leave you two alone for a minute,” I offer my seat to him and head out into the hallway, sinking to the ground outside the door. I can hear him pacing and swearing. Most of the team is gathered in the waiting room. Some are a few hours out. Cap said that their meeting in Berlin absolved us of an any further responsibility regarding these attacks. It doesn’t make me feel any better. This is it. I killed her. The first person to care for me in nearly a decade and she is dead because of me. After all she went through at my hands, after all the sacrifices she made. I killed her. I will never get enough air in my lungs to remove the brick on my chest. I killed the one person who truly cared for me, who loved me. I can never forgive myself.  
“Natasha,” Clint’s voice rings out, filled with relief. I burst through the door. His hand cups her face with such tenderness and love. It is the same way I view her. Someone too kind and too good for this world. He looks over at me, his eyes filled with tears. “She opened her eyes, it was only for a second, but she’s alive.”  
Natasha is alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And end part 1! Thank you again for reading along, I am so flattered that people are interested in my stories. You are all amazing!  
> Want to see what happens next with Natasha and Wanda? Part 2: Silenced is already finished! Binge read away!  
> As always, comments are welcome and appreciated!  
> Thank you,  
> Carly


End file.
